


Can You See Me?

by choking_on_roses (orphan_account)



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Haru has a slight omorashi kink, Light BDSM, M/M, OLDCODEX because of reasons, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome - M/M/M, genderfluid!Nagisa, heavy side pairings, inappropriate use of jam, reference to cutting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 134,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/choking_on_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What would have happened if I kissed you that night? Instead of running away." He closes his eyes and recalls the brilliant bloom of fireworks in the distance, colours playing across Makoto's face, his mouth caught up in a snarl, brows furrowed in frustration...</p><p>"I would have kissed you back. So hard."</p><p>Haru smiles, heart clenching at the thought of what could have been. Yet, he feels safe, secure. At peace with the way things are now. "There's a universe where I kissed you." </p><p>(or: the years have changed a lot of things, but not the way Haru feels. This time, he's not letting go.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by ES ep. 11 and Tatsuhisa Suzuki (aka Makoto's VA and lead singer of OLDCODEX, the band that performs both opening themes.) 
> 
> Title from OLDCODEX's "Hidemind" which is kinda the anthem of this fic. 
> 
> Please be gentle, senpai, it's my first time. ^_^

He regrets coming here. The place is dark, crowded, and the smoke hanging in the air is suffocating. Haru raises his beer to his lips, taking a long drink. He’s going to need a hell of a lot more of these if he’s going to survive this evening; there are too many people, too many voices.

“Having fun yet?” Nagisa leans over into Haru’s space, rose-coloured eyes peering up at him. Haru looks away. Of course he isn’t having fun. Suddenly Nagisa jumps up from his seat, waving his arms in the air enthusiastically. “REIIII!!! Over here!”

Rei waves back and carefully picks his way around the other lounge patrons, giving Nagisa a kiss when he finally reaches them. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he says, draping his grey jacket on the back of an empty chair and nodding apologetically at Haru. “The sitter was having car trouble.”

Nagisa twists to look at him, a hint of concern in his expression. “But she made it, right? Everything’s good? Mamiko’s okay?”

Rei chuckles. “Mamiko’s fine. I wouldn’t come here if she wasn’t, would I? She was already asleep when I left.”

Nagisa smiles, satisfied, and pushes a purple drink in Rei’s direction. “I already ordered for you.” The two sit with their chairs close together, and Haru suspects they’re holding hands under the table. After ten years, their relationship is as strong as ever. Rei’s personality has grown warmer and more inviting over the years; he no longer hesitates to kiss Nagisa in public or hold his hand, and while Nagisa has settled down exponentially under the responsibility of parenthood, he still gazes at Rei with the same adoration in his eyes that was there when they were teenagers.

As irritating as the couple can be at times, constantly badgering him until he agrees to go out with them- at least once a month, because _it’s good for you to get out, Haru-chan_ \- Haru can’t help but acknowledge the tiny grain of jealousy in his chest when he watches them together. He finishes off his beer and orders another, letting his eyes wander around the room. A small stage at the far end, bar on the other, tables and chairs scattered liberally around the outer edges, and an open space in the middle that he supposes is meant for dancing. 

“Why are we here?” Why couldn’t they just go to a normal bar? One that didn’t require advanced tickets to get into.

Nagisa smiles, checking the watch on Rei’s wrist. “There’s supposed to be a really cool new band playing here tonight. It’s gonna start soon.” He settles down with his head resting against Rei’s shoulder. Haru notices how tired he looks- how tired they both look, lately. It only reaffirms Haru’s desire never to have kids.

“Fags!” someone sneers. Haru hears cruel sniggering behind him, and turns to see a couple of inebriated guys at the table next to them. “I wonder which one of ‘em takes it,” one says loudly. “I bet it’s the blond lady-boy!” His friends seem to think he’s an absolute laugh riot. The background noise in the club continues, though some of the patrons closest to them have stopped to watch. Nagisa leans forward as if he’s about to say something, but Rei places a firm hand on his shoulder, standing up.

“That would be me, actually,” he says coldly, his mouth twisted in a disdainful frown. Haru doesn’t want to think about how he knows it’s a lie. Sometimes Haru forgets how tall Rei is, how intimidating he was in high-school, before Nagisa pestered him into joining the swim club, when he was that standoffish dick on the track team. It all comes back in a flash as Rei glares at the group of men over his glasses. Haru wonders vaguely if Rei even knows how to fight. Probably not. He can’t imagine Rei ever physically attacking somebody. Still, he certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end if he ever decided to try it. The guy would probably win through sheer determination. Luckily, the homophobic drunkard seems to have similar thoughts racing through his mind as he takes in Rei’s fit body and hard countenance. He mumbles something to his friends, and the lot of them get up and move to a more distant table.

Nagisa, breaking out of his momentary shock, giggles and claps. “Wow, Rei! That was amazing! I didn’t know you had that in you.”

Rei releases a shaky breath, adjusting his glasses as he sits. “I was terrified it wouldn’t work. It seems that with humans, as in nature, males can often avoid a fight simply by making themselves look more intimidating than-” Nagisa shuts him up with a kiss. If they were in a more private location he’d probably crawl into his lap, but they aren’t, so he doesn’t. He does, however, whisper something into Rei’s ear that makes the taller man blush before getting up and trotting off in the direction of the men’s room. Haru can guess exactly what he’s up to.

“I’m sorry, Haruka-senpai,” Rei says, following suit. “We’ll be back soon.” After a few steps he turns back to Haru, apparently deciding that he needs to justify what’s about to happen in one of the club’s bathroom stalls, which he totally _doesn’t_. “It’s been over a week since we’ve had a chance like this. It’s only logical to take it.” And then he’s gone, thank god.

Haru is starting his third beer, his back to the stage, when the lights dim. He’s not listening when the band is introduced, he doesn’t care when they start playing. He takes a long swig, wondering if Rei and Nagisa would even notice if he just got up and left. He can’t, though; Nagisa paid for his ticket to get in and everything. And then he freezes as the singing starts. It’s higher than he expected, considering the music leading into it was pretty heavy rock. There’s a slight nasally quality to the singer’s voice that makes it instantly recognizable, despite the fact that the lyrics to the song are so angsty, the voice rawer and more angry than he’s ever heard it. Time stops for Haru as he turns to face the stage, taking in the singer’s broad body, his shaggy brown hair and slightly downturned eyes. He knows who it is before his eyes can even register what he’s seeing.

He’s so transfixed that he doesn’t notice when Rei and Nasgisa return, slipping calmly into their seats. Nagisa’s voice sounds like it’s coming from the other side of the room as he chatters away about something. “Haru-chan? Har- oh my god, is that _Mako-chan_?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Space Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto raises his head, locking eyes with Haru. Haru’s close enough to see the emerald green of his irises, to see as something in Makoto’s face tightens. His signature smile does not waver, but Haru can tell now that it isn’t genuine. It isn’t the smile he grew up seeing every day. The one he didn’t know he was in love with until long after it was gone. Everything is not going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist adding the fluffy scene with Rei and Nagisa. I looked up the name "Mamiko," which I totally made up, and discovered that it means "full of beauty child." Rei probably chose it. It was meant to be.

Makoto Tachibana, the best friend Haru’s ever had, the one he hasn’t so much as spoken to since high-school graduation. He’s standing in the same room as Haru, pain and anger ringing in his voice as he sings, not even aware of Haru’s presence. Part of Haru wants to run away and hide- what can he possibly say after this many years? But he can’t move. He’s going to stay and watch, no matter how difficult it is, and go up to Makoto afterwards. He doesn’t know what he’ll do then, but he has to talk to him. It’s inevitable.

“It totally is!” Nagisa practically vibrates in his seat, stretching across the table so he can see better. “Wow, I didn’t know he could sing! We absolutely _have_ to go talk to him after this.”

Rei patiently tugs Nagisa’s shirt to make him sit down, sensing his impatience. “You have to wait until he’s done his show, at least.” They talk relatively little for the rest of the set, Nagisa whispering the occasional “he hasn’t changed a bit” or “he’s reeeeallyyyy good, don’t you think, Haru-chan?” Haru agrees that Makoto is good. He doesn’t agree that he hasn’t changed a bit.

Sure, he may look basically the same, if perhaps a bit broader in the shoulders (although maybe it’s his leather jacket creating an illusion,) and his hairstyle's a little different than it was ten years ago, but Haru can sense in his voice that he’s not the same. How could he possibly be? In what world would gentle, responsible, swim-team captain Makoto Tachibana ever become the lead singer of a rock band that plays in bars late on Saturday night?

Haru’s fingers dig into his knees as he sits, tense, unable to take his eyes off of the stage. No, the Makoto he’s looking at is nothing the same. Something has happened to him, altered him, given him a sharp edge. This Makoto is dark, ragged. What was it? The answer churns in Haru’s gut as if he’s swallowed a bag of nails. He wishes he hadn’t already had so much to drink. 

The anticipation ties his insides into tighter and tighter knots until finally, after what feels like an eternity in bitter hell, the last song comes to an end, the ring of cymbals slowly petering out as Makoto bows. The audience erupts, clapping and whistling, and Nagisa and Rei are no exception. Nagisa is off like a shot, literally squeezing his way through the crowded room to the stage, Rei trying to follow but with less success.

Haru zeros in on Makoto’s voice, which is sincerely thanking everyone over the microphone. His voice is honest and clear, a touch of bashfulness in it. He sounds…like he used to. Haru’s heart twinges painfully in his chest, suddenly wanting to see him, _needing_ to see him. It’s the same way he feels when he sees an open outdoor pool after a winter of going without. His ten year winter without Makoto is finally at an end. This is spring. 

Haru skirts around the edge of the room to avoid as many people as possible as he carefully makes his way up to the stage. The musicians are putting their instruments back into their cases and gathering up their gear, signing autographs and taking photos with people as they go. Haru swings his head wildly from side to side, searching- there! Nagisa and Rei are already part of the small mob that surrounds Makoto, Nagisa hanging off of him as if nothing has ever changed. Rei adjusts his glasses and motions animatedly with his other hand, nearly punching the woman next to him in the face several times before she finally has the wherewithal to move back a few steps. Makoto looks sheepish, the same expression on his face he always had growing up, whenever he was receiving compliments. 

Maybe Nagisa’s right, maybe nothing has changed for Makoto. Maybe Haru’s been the only one missing his friend, spending lonely nights playing their last real conversation- more like a screaming match- over and over in his mind, his fingers hovering over the keyboard on his phone with 'Makoto' typed into the recipient slot, desperately wondering how to put his tangled emotions into words, until he finally shoves his phone under his pillow and forces himself into a depressed sleep. If Makoto’s really fine, if none of that got to him the same way it got to Haru, well…maybe he can get forgiveness. Maybe everything will be okay. 

Haru takes one tentative step forward, into the light radiating from the stage. Makoto raises his head, locking eyes with Haru. He’s close enough to see the emerald green of his irises, to see as something in Makoto’s face tightens. His signature smile does not waver, but Haru can tell now that it isn’t genuine. It isn’t the smile he grew up seeing every day. The one he didn’t know he was in love with until long after it was gone. Everything is not going to be okay.

“Haru,” Makoto says, sounding a little winded. “You’re here.”

 _Obviously._ “I am.”

“It’s…good to see you.” Haru can’t tell if he means it or not. The silence between them stretches on, Haru willing himself to say something, anything, literally _any_ words, but can’t. Finally, Rei gives a gentle cough. 

“It was a wonderful surprise seeing you tonight, Makoto-senpai, but Nagisa and I have to get going. We only have the sitter until midnight.”

Makoto’s attention shifts back to the couple in front of him. “A sitter? Do you have a dog?”

Nagisa’s practically beaming as he corrects him. “No, we have a daughter. Mamiko! We adopted her last year from a teen who wasn’t ready to be a mom.”

“Do you want to see some pictures?” Rei gushes. Oh, god. Haru rolls his eyes; this could take all night.

“Oh, sure,” Makoto says, managing to look only slightly stunned off his ass. “Mamiko? That’s a beautiful name.” His face relaxes into a real smile. “It’s so good to see you two again, and to see you’re still together. It’s amazing, really.”

Nagisa hangs off the arm Rei isn’t using to search for pictures in his phone. “After Rei graduated from university, we went on a trip to Canada. We saw everything- Niagara Falls, Montreal, Vancouver, the Rocky Mountains…” 

“They were beautiful,” Rei breathes, as if seeing them all over again, momentarily forgetting about his phone. “And while we were there, we,” –he coughs again- “Partook of certain services they offer.”

The realization only takes a moment to spread across Makoto’s face. “You got married?!”

“We would have invited you, Mako-chan,” Nagisa trills. “But nobody could get a hold of you.”

“It’s fine,” Rei reasons. “It would have been an expensive journey to make for such a small amount of gratification on your part. We didn’t want many people there, anyway.” He goes to unlock his phone again, the time popping up on the screen. “We really have to go!”

Makoto nods. “Congratulations, you two! We’ll have to meet up again sometime so I can see those pictures of Mamiko.” 

“I have your new number in my phone, Mako-chan, I’ll text you,” Nagisa calls as Rei drags him away to collect their jackets. “BYE HARU-CHAN!”

Haru stares at Makoto, forgetting that they’re in a crowded bar. Although the many conversations going on around them are loud, the silence between the two of them is tangible. Haru finally opens his mouth, but the words just won’t come. He’s never been good at them, especially when emotion is involved. “M-”

“MAKOTO-SENPAI!!!” He’s interrupted by a trio of giggling, shrieking girls. He decides that he hates them. Makoto, on the other hand, seems to appreciate the attention, blushing a little and giving each of them an autograph, before posing for a photo, a girl on either side of him, hanging onto his arms. Haru wants to break their fingers off.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of his life, the girls move off to hunt down “that hot as fuck” bass player, leaving Haru and Makoto to themselves. Makoto sighs and pulls his hand through his hair. 

“Should we have a drink?”

Haru nods and follows him to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm a piece of human garbage. I promise I will not sleep until I put some porn up! More chapters will be up as soon as I've edited them. I'm sorry they're so short!
> 
> Bonus points to whoever can use this chapter to figure out what country I'm from ;)
> 
>  
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	3. Turning the Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to feel Makoto through touch, feel his anger, his sadness. He wants to feel the ragged, hot emotions that neither of them were ever able to put into words in high-school. Words are too hard. They fail Haru again and again. He wants to feel, feel Makoto, his warm breath, his strong body above him, crushing him, punishing him for his mistakes. He has the odd notion that if he can feel that from Makoto, then maybe, one day, he’ll be able to forgive himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna pump this one out real quick. Sorry. (I'm not sorry.)

“Rum and coke, please, and whatever he’s having.” Makoto gestures vaguely in Haru’s direction, avoiding looking at him.

Haru knows having another beer is a bad idea at this point, so he doesn’t get one. “I’ll get the same,” he says. His mouth is such a traitor sometimes.

They sip their drinks in silence for a while, the atmosphere in the bar calming down as the hour wears on and people begin to trickle out. Finally Makoto turns.  
“I’m sorry.” He shrugs his shoulders, genuinely apologetic. “I don’t really know what I should say to you.”

Haru knows exactly how he feels. He shakes his head. “Don’t say anything, then.” There’s so much he wants to ask. He settles for watching Makoto out of the corner of his eye; he’s playing with the ice in his drink, swirling his glass so the cubes clatter up against the sides. He takes a long sip, his throat moving with his swallow.

Haru tears his eyes away and stares into the depths of his own glass. He wishes he could dive in and swim away. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“What?” Makoto’s looking at him now.

“In high-school. I’m sorry for yelling. It was childish.” Something loosens in his chest when he finally says it, allowing his breaths to come easier. Makoto gapes at him for a good five seconds before closing his mouth, slapping his hand on the counter. 

Ten years ago, Makoto would have tilted his head to the side, smiled, and told Haru not to worry about it. But that Makoto isn’t here. 

“You know what, Haru? You should be sorry.” He’s looking straight at Haru now, as if finally seeing him for the first time this evening. “You broke my heart. It took me years to get over you.” 

Haru blinks. “To get over me?”

Makoto chuckles, a desperate, resigned sound. “Yes, Haru.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “You mean you never realized that I was in love with you?”

Haru can only shake his head. Makoto in love with him…something snaps into place in his mind. Of course. _Of course_. Haru feels more sick than ever. 

Makoto smiles into his drink. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know. How could you when I never told you?” His eyes flicker back to Haru’s face, gauging his reaction. “It’s my fault, really, for not saying anything. I was a coward. I…” His expression is gentle, sad. “I was terrified of my sexuality, of my feelings for you, and how you’d react…and then you went off to Australia with Rin without saying anything to me and that kind of confirmed things.”

“I…” Haru doesn’t know what to say. This should be an astounding revelation for him, but he finds he’s not shocked at all. Instead he’s numb.

“It’s fine, it’s all over now. Teenage hormones.” He lets out a sheepish laugh that doesn’t convince Haru at all, draining the rest of his drink. “Like I said. I’m over it.”

Haru feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Over it,” he repeats, the words acidic on his tongue. He wants to leave, but his body won’t let him. Haru’s always trusted his instincts, and right now they’re telling him to stay beside Makoto as long as possible. To never let him go. After all these years, Makoto still reminds Haru of water- in high school it was glassy, calm, all-enveloping water, like a pool. Now, he’s darker, rougher, the ocean on a stormy night. Haru can sense the waves crashing inside him, dangerous and capable of drowning him if he isn’t careful. Haru can’t decide which version of Makoto he wants, but this is the one in front of him now.

Makoto stands to leave. “I have to go. You need a cab or anything? You look a little drunk.”

Haru shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay. Get home safe, then. Maybe I’ll see you around.” They both know that it’ll never happen. As Makoto starts walking away, Haru’s chest tightens. He can’t breathe, his limbs feel heavy, his ears are ringing. 

“ _No!_ ”

Makoto looks down at Haru’s hand, which is gripping the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

“Don’t go.”

He meets Makoto’s eyes, which are glittering, hard, like precious gems. “What do you want from me, Haru? I already gave you everything I had, and you threw it away.” Haru’s never heard Makoto this passive-aggressive before. His breath catches in his throat.

“Retribution.”

Makoto’s mouth turns up in a smile, but his eyes gleam dangerously. Haru’s brain desperately tries to send warning signals to the rest of him. _Move, legs. Get out of here!_ But he can’t. He’s mesmerized. Caught like a fish in a net.

“Retribution, Haru? Are you sure? I’m not fucking around with you this time.” His voice is coy. “Well, I could, actually…”

Haru feels a light blush on his cheeks. Since when did Makoto swear? Probably around the same time he joined a rock band and bought leather clothes. _I’m not fucking around with you this time_. A shiver tingles down Haru’s spine. “I want you to.”

Makoto doesn’t miss a beat. “You want me to fuck you?” He giggles. Downright giggles. There are no other words for it. “It’s funny, because I always wanted to in high-school, you know? And now that I finally have you out of my head, have my life together, here you are, offering to jump into bed with me.”

Haru shrugs. He feels like a tightly coiled spring.

“Fine, Haru. I accept.” His voice has a slight predatory quality to it. “But you aren’t allowed to back out of this. This is payback, if you will.”

Haru brings his glass to his lips and tilts the rest of the liquid down his throat, feeling heat radiate across his face. He places the cup neatly on the napkin in front of him and stands. “I won’t back out. Let’s go.”

 

 

The cab ride is almost unbearable. Haru pretends to be looking out at the city, but he’s actually studying Makoto’s reflection in the window. Makoto seems frustratingly at ease with this whole situation. Then again, Makoto has always been relatively easy-going compared to other people. So that much hadn’t changed.

“You must do this all the time.”

Makoto breathes out through his nose. “I’m not a stranger to it, no.”

Haru nods, his muscles tensing up even more. Why did he ask that? Now he can’t stop picturing Makoto in bed with strange men, kneeling above them, his strong hands running over their bodies, moaning their names… _Stop thinking about that_. Of course Makoto wouldn't be a virgin at this age. He's normal. That's just the way life goes. But Makoto in bed with _him_ , kneeling above _him_ , moaning _his_ name…

“Haru.” He snaps out of his reverie and nearly has to pry his own fingers out of the denim covering his knees. “We’re here.”

“Where?”

“A love hotel,” Makoto says naturally, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Of course he smokes now, too. Should’ve guessed. “Hang on. Give me two minutes.”

Normally Haru finds smoking disgusting, but tonight, he’s intrigued. He’s fascinated by the change in his old best friend, the person he used to know better than anyone in the world. He’s the same, yet so different. It’s tying Haru’s heart up in knots, making it beat irregularly. His eyes fix on the burning ember of Makoto’s cigarette, watching it roll between Makoto’s big, strong fingers, suddenly feeling jealous of the way the cigarette is being caressed by his lips. He wonders if they’re as rough as they look. 

He admits to himself, finally, that he really wants to be kissed by those lips, touched by those hands. Rough. He wants to feel Makoto through touch, feel his anger, his sadness. He wants to feel the ragged, hot emotions that neither of them were ever able to put into words in high-school. Words are too hard. They fail Haru again and again. He wants to feel, feel Makoto, his warm breath, his strong body above him, crushing him, punishing him for his mistakes. He has the odd notion that if he can feel that from Makoto, then maybe, one day, he’ll be able to forgive himself.

Makoto slowly releases one last puff of smoke, grinding the cigarette out on the sole of his shoe. “Has anyone told you how similar you are to a cat?”

“A cat?” Haru blinks in confusion.

Makoto laughs. “I can’t believe I never noticed before. You’re just like one. You were staring at my smoke the way a cat looks at a laser pointer. If you had a tail it would’ve been twitching.”

Haru shrugs for the millionth time that evening, getting impatient. “I saw something I wanted.” He walks up the entrance to the hotel, looking back at Makoto, who has the decency to look at least a little surprised. “And I don’t mean the cigarette.” He smiles (internally, of course) as he hears Makoto’s heavy footsteps following him. _If I’m a cat, Makoto, then you’re a dog._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, the next chapter will be straight up porn. It's coming! I'm coming! Sorry. (I'm not sorry.)
> 
>  
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	4. Like a Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every step toward the room feels more and more like he’s approaching the starting block at a swimming competition. Although he hasn’t actually participated in one for years, Haru still swims regularly, and it’s not like he could ever forget the anticipation, the nerves, but also the thrill of jumping into the water and seeing how fast he can go. He really wants to jump into Makoto’s storm, to see if he can keep his head above water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I don't know what this is. I've created a monster. Send help.

While Makoto pays for their room, Haru busies himself with trying to look like he’s ever been in a love hotel before. Cool, casual. It’s kind of his thing. Telling himself that doesn’t take the slight tremor from his hands, but at least it keeps it from getting worse. It’s something. 

Makoto steps aside for him, motioning down the hall. “Lead the way, Haru.” He lowers his voice. “I’ve always liked watching you from behind.”

Haru doesn’t mind going first, because it means he can hide his red face from Makoto. The only reason he’s so flustered is because he’s never expected this kind of talk from his gentle friend. Yeah, that’s the only reason. 

Every step toward the room feels more and more like he’s approaching the starting block at a swimming competition. Although he hasn’t actually participated in one for years, Haru still swims regularly, and it’s not like he could ever forget the anticipation, the nerves, but also the thrill of jumping into the water and seeing how fast he can go. He really wants to jump into Makoto’s storm, to see if he can keep his head above water.

Makoto unlocks the door. “After you.”

Haru steps into the room, flicking on the light. The room is less…elaborate than he was expecting. Like a normal hotel room, but with a bigger bed than he’s used to. It has a metal frame with a slatted headboard, and plain white sheets. Makoto’s already shrugging off his jacket, heading for the mini bar. “Something to drink? You seem tense.”  
Haru shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You aren’t getting cold feet now, are you?”

Again, he shakes his head, eyes straying toward a painting on the wall. He quickly snaps them back again when he realizes what the two figures in the painting are doing. He can do this. He’s seen porn. He’s listened (unwillingly) to Nagisa’s hundreds of stories. He knows where everything’s supposed to go. And then he’s shocked out of his thoughts as Makoto bends and kisses him. His lips feel like they’ve been burned, and he pulls away without thinking. Haru forgot how quietly Makoto can cross a room.

“Haru…”

“Sorry. Do it again.”

Makoto gives him an appraising look and leans in, this time placing a firm hand on the back of Haru’s head. His lips aren’t as rough as Haru had imagined them, but the way he’s moving them is a different story. Fast. Aggressive. Makoto opens his mouth a slightly and runs his tongue across Haru’s lower lip. He tastes like cigarette smoke. Haru can’t tell if he hates it or loves it. He probably hates that he loves it. He gives in, opening his lips up to Makoto, wanting to feel him inside; and there he is, his tongue snaking around Haru’s, firm and wet. Haru tries his best to keep up, but he’s running out of breath, fingers digging into the front of Makoto’s black t-shirt as he fights for air.

Makoto pulls away, looking truly astounded for the first time tonight. “You've never done this before!”

Haru huffs, eyes latching onto the lewd painting again, seeing right through it. “I guess I never got around to it.”

Makoto visibly shudders, darkness clouding his eyes. “You’re a virgin. You’re twenty-seven years old, Haru.”

“Sorry I haven’t been sleeping around as much as you,” he spits back, hearing the frost in his own voice. He hadn’t meant it to sound so cruel.

Makoto spreads his hands in the air. “You got me.” His eyes flicker toward the bed. Hesitating. “Do you still want this?”

“I told you I wasn’t going to back out. Retribution.”

“You broke my heart, so you’re giving me your virginity?”

Haru nods.

Makoto breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank god. This situation is pretty much the culmination of all my wet dreams from high-school.” He takes Haru by the waist and presses his lips against his ear, kissing it softly. “With the added bonus that I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m going to make you scream my name so loud, Haru.”

That voice. Oh, goddamn that voice. It comes out in a low, raw tone, almost a growl. Haru can hear the blood rushing in his ears as it descends straight south. “You better.”  
Before he can take another breath, Makoto’s lips are on him again, as unrelenting as ever. Haru has always been quick to pick up on concepts, especially those involving his body. He’s good at physical activities. He reaches up to twine his hands in Makoto’s hair, needing to feel him. Makoto is water, and Haru’s skin is thirsty, begging to be engulfed by all of him. Kissing Makoto feels so natural. Soon Haru is twisting his own tongue around Makoto’s, smirking at the small sound he elicits when he tugs on Makoto’s hair. 

Makoto finally pulls away, giving Haru a wary look. “I should have known this would be a challenge.” There’s a light tinge colouring Makoto’s cheeks. Haru feels a throb in his groin when he realizes that Makoto’s turned on. Because of him.

“Don’t worry, Haru. I have plans for you.” Makoto backs a few steps away, raking his eyes over Haru’s body. “I want to see you strip.”

Haru’s hands are at his buttons in a split second; this he can do. This, he’s good at. Before he can get far, though, Makoto’s hand encloses his wrist. “I want you to strip slowly,” he says, his voice that delicious growl. At this moment, Haru doesn’t care if the old Makoto ever comes back.

He forces his hands to calm down, baring the flesh of his chest as slowly as possible. The way Makoto stares at him, like some kind of ravenous beast, makes him shiver. He lets his shirt drop to the floor, moving to unbuckle his belt. He decides it’s best to look Makoto directly in the eyes as he delicately lowers his black jeans to the floor and steps out of them, bending to remove each of his socks, lingering as long as he can. The bed springs creak as Makoto sits on the edge of it, his open legs revealing the growing bulge in his own pants. Haru wills his eyes to move, but they aren’t cooperating with him at the moment.

“Like what you see?” Makoto leans forward and sets his chin on his hand, which is resting on his knee. He radiates all the confidence of a king sitting on a throne. When the hell did Makoto become like this? Why does Haru like it so much? He feels like Makoto can see right into him, like he always could when they were young.

Haru brings his hands up to the waistband of his boxers (which, he notes, are doing very little to conceal his erection from Makoto’s eyes) but, after letting them linger there for a moment, he places his hands on his abs instead, meeting Makoto’s gaze as he runs his hands over his own prominent muscles. He’s glad he still spends most mornings at the pool.

Makoto’s eyes widen slightly, and he bites his lip as he watches Haru. Haru finds that he very much enjoys turning Makoto on. It may be one of his new favourite activities. He raises his hands a bit, brushing them against his nipples, already pert from rubbing against Makoto’s chest when they were kissing. Haru circles them briefly, just enough to capture Makoto’s attention. It’s definitely one of his new favourite activities. He slides his hands down and strips his boxers off as quickly as if he’s noticed there’s a pool in the other room. He can feel Makoto’s gaze focus on his cock, which is already throbbing hard, moisture leaking from the tip.

Makoto chuckles, a rich, thick sound. “Always testing your boundaries, Haru.” His eyes don’t stray as he stands and stretches, the hem of his shirt travelling several inches up his stomach, revealing the tight, tanned skin there. Haru can conjure up images of a half-naked Makoto whenever he feels like it- god knows they’ve spent enough time around each other in swimsuits- but this is different. The lines defining Makoto’s hips are showing, and though Haru’s seen them a million times, this time they turn him on. Oh, how they turn him on. 

“You want me to get naked, too?” Makoto’s demeanor is almost lazy.

Haru senses a trap. “You won’t, will you.”

Makoto shakes his head. “Nope. Not anytime soon.” He covers the space between them in two strides of his long legs. “You aren’t ready for me yet, Haru.”

Haru can’t suppress this shiver. “Then get me ready.” He’s never been good at the whole patience thing.

Makoto’s attitude flips, as quickly as an elastic band snapping. “Nope. That’s too easy, Haru.” His eyes are on Haru’s as he gets to his knees, tantalizingly slowly. Makoto sets his hands on the backs of Haru’s calves, his face close enough to Haru’s erection that he’d brush against it if he only turned his head down. He doesn’t. Instead, he trails his hands up Haru’s thighs, his touch so light it feels like a warm breeze. At the same time, he lowers his head to the side and licks his way up Haru’s hip. The sensation is enough to make Haru’s body break out in goosebumps. He’s always imagined Makoto to be gentle like this in bed. Maybe the old Makoto is in there, still. 

Haru’s breath hitches when Makoto pinches his ass, quite hard. He doesn’t yelp, though. That would be undignified.

Makoto smiles against his skin and keeps kissing along his pelvic line, before nipping his jutting hipbone. Haru’s ready for it this time, and tugs at Makoto’s hair in retaliation. 

Makoto pulls away, eyes gleaming. “I want you to get yourself ready, Haru.”

“Myself?”

“Have you ever masturbated that way? From behind?”

“You have.” Not quite a question.

Makoto grins, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Yes, all the time. I like it from behind as much as I like giving it. But don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re the one losing your virginity here. I lost mine years ago.” His gentle voice is at total odds with the words that are coming out of his mouth.

Haru can’t help but imagine the exact things Makoto is trying to get him to. Makoto on his back, legs spread, fingers knuckle deep inside of himself, face screwed up in concentration and pleasure. 

He can’t keep the flush out of his cheeks, or his cock, for that matter. God that’s hot.

“Do it to yourself, Haru. I want to see it.”

Haru shrugs. It seems simple enough. He reaches behind himself.

“Whoa, whoa. Don’t hurt yourself.” Makoto opens a drawer on the bedside table, tossing something at Haru. He catches it reflexively. Lubricant. Right. Haru knows that. He wastes no time in squirting it onto his fingers, slicking them up. While he’s busying himself with that, he’s aware of Makoto laying down on the bed, fully clothed, stretching out on his back with his arms behind his head.

“It’s easier on all fours.” Makoto pats the space beside him. 

Haru accepts the challenge, making sure to accidentally brush his hand against the front of Makoto’s jeans as he crawls over him. Knowing Makoto expects him to masturbate right beside him on the bed, Haru stops with one leg on either side of Makoto’s, straddling him backwards, so Makoto has a full view of his ass. He’s thankful that he’s still in the practice of shaving most of his body hair for swimming.

Makoto doesn’t move. “Go ahead.” He sounds pleased.

Haru slowly reaches behind himself, rubbing his slicked finger against his cleft, finding his entrance with the tip of his middle finger. He steels himself for what he fully expects will be a thoroughly unpleasant experience, pressing his finger in and past the first ring of muscle. It feels strange, uncomfortable, but not painful. He swirls his finger around a bit, exploring, probing for the legendary spot he knows is in there. He doesn’t find it, but after a few minutes he feels stretched out enough to push in his index finger alongside the first. 

This hurts more, but Haru stifles his groan and keeps searching, swirling and moving his fingers around to get used to it, the slick noises of his lubed fingers slapping against his skin creating an odd echo in his ears. Then he finds it, gasping with a jolt from his hips. The area is small and rough; he fingers it tentatively, hoping to replicate the result. Pleasure pools in his stomach as he fingers himself open, able to reach further and further as he opens up.

Scissoring his fingers and crooking them in exactly the right spot, Haru grinds his hips back, releasing a muffled whimper at the sensation. He grinds down again and again, increasing his speed, the urge to come growing stronger with each thrust of his fingers. He slips in a third and pushes, hard, fingerfucking himself until his cock is leaking a steady string of precum onto the leg of Makoto’s pants.

He arches his back, so close, when he suddenly feels a firm pressure around the base of his cock. “M-Makoto!” He looks back at the man he had almost forgotten was there.  
“Retribution, Haru,” he clucks, disapprovingly. Makoto grasps his wrist and pulls his hand away, his fingers coming free with a wet pop. And then those rough hands are pushing Haru down face-first into the mattress, kissing down the small of his back and over his ass, pausing there. Haru feels Makoto spreading him open with one hand, and he hopes to god that something long and rigid is about to be shoved into him to finish him off. 

What he feels instead is hot breath against him as Makoto laughs, deep and low in the back of his throat, and in the next moment, something warm and slippery is circling his hole, flicking inside of him briefly before pulling out to lick some more. The thought that Makoto’s tongue is inside him is enough to make Haru’s whole body burn with the need to release. The pressure from Makoto’s tongue, while firm, is nowhere near enough to get him off, and Makoto knows it. He teases Haru thoroughly, his grip on Haru’s hips tightening whenever he feels them start to buck.

Finally, Haru’s had enough. He reaches his hand down to stroke his cock, he needs it, he has to come right now. Suddenly Makoto’s tongue is gone, a strong hand is pulling his arm away, and Haru feels a sharp pain when Makoto bites his ass cheek.

“Did I say you could do that?” Makoto growls.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Makoto considers this information for a moment. “True…still, I can’t have you doing anything against my express wishes. On your back,” he demands.

Haru rolls onto the blanket beside Makoto, sitting up a little so he can see him. Makoto hums to himself while he leaves the bed for a moment, picking over the pile of Haru’s discarded garments. Haru would have to be blind not to see how big Makoto’s erection has gotten in his pants, the front darkened by a spot of wet. The sight makes Haru’s cock twitch, more precum dribbling out onto his stomach. 

“I want you to grasp one of the rails on the headboard.” Haru complies, watching with interest as Makoto approaches him, belt in hand. Haru’s belt. He anticipates what’s about to happen, a tingle of fear sliding down his body. He could say he doesn’t want this. Looking into Makoto’s eyes, he knows that if he says it, Makoto won’t force him. Makoto is expecting him to say no. That, combined with the donning comprehension that he still trusts Makoto with his life, even after all these years, are enough to make him maintain his grip on the rail.

“Not…not too tight.” He swallows, dizzy with arousal, as Makoto leans over him to fasten the belt around his wrists, securing him to the headboard. Underneath the smoke and alcohol scent faintly clinging to his clothes, Makoto smells amazing. He still uses the same brand of deodorant. Cute, Haru thinks. As if anything about this situation is cute. He ruts his hips up against Makoto’s leg, testing his bonds. They are tight enough that he can’t escape, but not so much that they cut into his skin. Haru groans. All he wants to do is come.

The look on Makoto’s face tells him that he’s also rapidly reaching the end of his patience. A few more well-placed thrusts, a moan- “Makoto.”

“Yes?”

Haru huffs and turns his head to the side. 

“Say it, Haru. I want to hear it.”

“Fuck me, Makoto.” He grinds hard against Makoto’s clothed leg, the friction enough to make him gasp. “Hard.”

Makoto is on him in an instant, crushing his mouth against Haru’s, shoving his tongue forcefully in between Haru’s lips, tasting of synthetic lube and Haru’s own skin. He doesn’t care how it tastes. It feels amazing. He wants to bury his hands in Makoto’s hair, leave a score of red nail marks down his back, but he can’t, his arms still fastened firmly over his head.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he moans into Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto takes the opportunity to pull away and remove his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans. “Then you finally understand how it feels.”

Haru can’t help but stare when Makoto slips out of his pants and underwear in one fluid motion. Of course he knew that Makoto had a huge dick, he’d seen it countless times in the locker room after swim practice. This is different. Makoto is gigantic, flushed red, precum leaking angrily out of his tip and dripping down the underside of his cock. Yes, oh god yes, he wants that. The thought doesn’t scare him in the least. He wants that inside him.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m getting to that.” Makoto pulls out a condom from the same drawer the lube came from, proceeding to make Haru watch as he rolls it on with all the speed of a snail on a lazy Sunday afternoon. He squirts liberal amounts of lube onto himself, spending too much time slicking it over his cock with his hand.

Haru’s at his absolute limit, straining at the belt that traps him. “Makoto. Please.” He looks Makoto dead in the eye as he says it, determined to make the green-eyed man take him seriously.

In one motion, Makoto grabs Haru’s ankles, spreading him so wide that his thighs burn in protest. He feels Makoto’s hot, hard cock rub against his entrance, his hole twitching in anticipation. Then Makoto bucks his hips forward and Haru’s in so much pain he can’t even breathe. Gasping for air, he fights to keep the blackness from spreading across his vision, tears spilling from his eyes without his consent.

“FUCK!”

“Oh, I intend to.” His voice is gentle again. “I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it. “I shouldn’t have done that. Relax, Haru. You’ll get used to it, I promise.”

Using Makoto’s voice as an anchor, Haru manages to claw his way back from the edge of insanity. After several long minutes spent catching his breath, Makoto rubbing soft circles on his hips and thighs as Haru lets his body relax and stretch around the new pressure inside of him, he raises his head to catch Makoto’s eye. 

“I’m ready.” The pain has subsided into a dull ache. He knows he won’t care anymore once Makoto starts thrusting into his sweet spot. Merely thinking about it causes a twinge in his dick.

“Fuck, Haru, stop squeezing me like that.” 

Interesting. He does it again. “Like this?”

Makoto groans and thrusts his hips forward, his skin slapping hotly against Haru’s ass. “Is this good?” He pulls back an inch, angling himself a little, and snaps his hips forward. Something inside Haru twists. He doesn’t feel pain anymore, just a hot pressure inside him. 

“Yes,” he hisses, “again.”

Makoto obliges, thrusting his hips in and out again and again, making small circular motions with his hips. Haru sees stars as he pushes up against his sweet spot. “More!”

Watching Makoto’s muscled chest moving above him, feeling his heavy body press against his, his cock hitting Haru at exactly the right angle; it’s all too much. “Make me come, Makoto,” he cries, straining against the belt that tethers him to the bed, desperately grinding his hips against Makoto’s cock.

“I told you I’d make you scream my name,” Makoto pants in his ear, grasping one hand fully around Haru’s erection and thumbing his slit, increasing the speed of his relentless thrusts at the same time. 

Haru comes so hard he forgets how to breathe, thick strings of come bursting between Makoto’s fingers and splattering across his own belly. He squeezes down as hard as he can on Makoto, who comes soon after, fucking right through his release, their bodies shuddering violently against each other. 

Haru gasps air back into his lungs, falling exhausted and sweaty against the pillow, his body still twitching occasionally from the aftershock. Makoto rolls off of him, his softening dick sliding easily of Haru’s body, the removal of that hot pressure a relief in its own way.

“Untie me.”

“You’re so demanding, Haru,” Makoto mocks, leaning over and undoing the belt, loosening the loops of the makeshift restraint enough that Haru can slip his hands out. “These are going to bruise tomorrow,” he says, tracing one wrist with a light finger. His face is only a few inches from Haru’s.

“I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care about anything, unless it’s water.” 

Haru’s had enough, enough talking, enough of this rude Makoto. He tangles his hands through Makoto’s hair, as he’s wanted to do for the last hour, and pulls his face close for another kiss. After thoroughly fucking Makoto’s mouth with his tongue (taking care to breathe through his nose this time,) Haru lets his hands fall back onto the mattress, closing his eyes.

“Tired. Going to sleep now.” As exhaustion rapidly overtakes him, he thinks he feels the light pressure of lips against his temple, but it’s probably just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more. Eventually. I definitely need to get Reigisa back in the game- oh god, I miss them already. Hold me.
> 
>  
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	5. Call Me in the Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gradually Makoto’s heart had healed (though it was certainly no longer in pristine condition) and he’d moved on, seldom even thinking of Haru anymore. Still, he was stupid to think that sleeping with him now, ten years later, would mean absolutely nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went in a completely different direction than I was imagining. Oh well. At least I got a healthy dose of Reigisa in there (I'm in love with them, if you can't tell.)

Haru wakes up shivering, sunlight prying his eyes open. He’s alone; Makoto’s clothes are gone. He shouldn’t be upset, or even surprised. He should have expected this. He shouldn’t feel as though he has a belly full of rocks and has just been dropped in the middle of the Pacific. But what should be and what are, sadly, are two different things. 

The clock tells him it’s only eight in the morning. Wrapping the comforter around himself (god, it smells like him) Haru retreats to the edge of the bed closest to the wall. Maybe if he falls back asleep, he can spend a few more hours pretending last night never happened. No, that’s not it- Haru never wants to forget being so close to Makoto, his scent, the feel of his body, the way his eyes looked, hooded with lust. 

Haru wants to remember, because although the feeling of waking up alone hurts so much it’s almost crippling, the pain is what links the two of them together. The deep ache deep inside of him, the burn in his muscles, the spreading bruises on his hips where Makoto’s fingers had dug in- they hurt enough that Haru can almost imagine the pressure of hands still on him. 

Haru shoves his face into the pillow, pulling his knees up toward his chest until he can feel the thrill of pain knifing through his lower region, curling into a ball. He plans to stay here until a hotel maid knocks on the door and makes him leave; until then, he wants to be left alone. 

Unfortunately, Haru’s phone doesn’t give a fuck about what he wants. He ignores it the first time the message tone vibrates, and the second, and the third. About a half hour after that it starts ringing, over and over again, blasting loud noise that even Haru can’t ignore for long. By the time the phone is ringing the fourth time, Haru has practically dragged himself out of bed, crawling toward his pants on all fours because he’s not sure if he can stand. He fumbles for the phone in his pocket, wrist weak and encircled by a red mark that’s already deepening into a darker purple. “What.”

“HARU-CHAN! So you are alive,” a voice singsongs into his ear. It’s way too early for this. “People who are alive should text their friends so they don’t spend hours worrying that they’re dead in an alley somewhere.”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need to tell you where I am all the time.” He can’t keep the mind-your-own-business out of his voice.

“Wow, so, it went that bad, huh?” 

Haru hates Nagisa’s tone. It’s subdued, sympathetic. He’s tempted to hang up. He doesn’t want to deal with this right now. Or ever. 

“Haru-chan. You’re coming over here for breakfast, okay? You’re not allowed to say no. Mamiko wants to see her uncle! Wanna talk to her?”

“No.” Nobody’s listening. He hears rustling and the muffled sound of Nagisa’s cooing off in the background, then a tiny, high-pitched voice.

“Hawu!” 

…Damn.

 

 

Haru picks at his breakfast, eating the minimal amount required for Nagisa not to ask too many questions. Rei notices, of course, but he at least has the delicacy not to say anything. Or he’s too absorbed feeding Mamiko to care. It looks like getting the food in her mouth, instead of all over her face or in her hair, takes quite a bit of skill- Mamiko is an eternal squirmer. Haru has to admire Rei’s patience with her. He’s been putting up with Nagisa for years, so Haru supposes he’s had enough practice at this point. 

“-‘cause she’s such a b-word all the time, ‘specially since she got engaged, she thinks she’s so hot with that diamond on her hand, right, so I told her if she doesn’t back off my clients I’m gonna dump all her Biolage Matrix down the freakin’ sink-” Haru wonders how Nagisa manages to keep his eggs in his mouth while he chatters. He must be part squirrel. It makes sense.

Nagisa shoves another piece of tamagoyaki in his mouth, chewing and talking simultaneously. “Everyone knows to come to me if they want good foils-”

Haru has no idea what Nagisa’s talking about. He sits rigidly as the urge to run home and seek refuge in the tub grows stronger and stronger; his clothes are stifling and tight, the brief shower he’d had before he left the hotel nowhere near enough to wash away the dried sweat he still feels on his body. Haru stands. “Thanks for breakfast. I’m going.”  
“Wait! I didn’t wanna say anything, but I talked to Mako-chan this morning,” Nagisa says, starting to gather dirty dishes into a pile.

Haru can’t help himself from asking. “What did he say?”

“He invited us all to another concert next weekend. He was kinda making it sound like he didn’t think you’d wanna go, though.”

“I will. I’ll go.” He has to see him again, no matter how much of a bad idea it is. Haru’s never been good at doing things that are actually good for him. He’s already fucked, so what’s the point in pretending it didn’t happen? Haru almost laughs at his own pun. Why were things only funny when they were this messed up?

As if reading his thoughts, Mamiko lets out a shriek of laughter, slapping her hands against her high chair tray and spraying Rei with flecks of oatmeal, who sighs loudly, removing his glasses to wipe them clean with the hem of his shirt. Nagisa’s next to them in a flash of gold hair, wiping Mamiko’s face with his sleeve and unbuckling her from the chair so he can balance her on his hip. 

Rei slides his glasses back on, looking slightly frazzled. “I don’t understand. No matter what I make, she won’t eat.”

“Just give her shortcake again, she likes that.” Mamiko clings to Nagisa’s sweater, burying her face against his chest.

“We can’t feed her nothing but cake, Nagisa, that isn’t a nutritionally viable meal plan.”

Haru senses his chance and heads straight for the door, getting one shoe on before-

“HAWU!!”

She’s leaning away from Nagisa now, stretching her chubby little hands out towards Haru, a huge smile lighting up her face. The only thing he can do is kick his shoe back off and go to her, lifting her into his arms. She nuzzles her face into his neck. Something clenches in his chest.

Nagisa’s staring at him with his fingers stroking his chin, eyes narrowed in the way that means he has an idea. “Ma-chan, do you want to go stay at Haru-chan’s house?” 

Even Rei looks astounded. “Don’t get her hopes up like that,” he hisses.

“I can take her.” For some reason, Haru doesn’t hate the idea.

The next second he’s bombarded with multiple thank-yous and “just a few hours would mean so much,” “we really owe you one,” “Oh my god, Haru-chan, I didn’t think you’d really do it, you’re the best!” 

 

 

Taking care of children isn’t hard. They’re far easier to get along with than adults are; when they want to do something, they do it. They don’t complicate everything by overthinking it. Haru takes Mamiko for a walk, holding her hand and keeping a slow pace so she can keep up. 

She gets distracted by the littlest things- a leaf blowing by, a coin on the sidewalk, a butterfly. She hasn’t lost the ability to absorb herself in everything she does. Haru likes that.  
He makes mackerel for dinner. He’s no longer obsessed with it like he was in high school, but today feels nostalgic. He feeds Mamiko pieces of food off his own plate, which she eats without complaint. 

After eating, he holds her in his lap while they watch some sort of princess movie Nagisa sent with them. Rei had only protested briefly, his desire to spend some alone time with his husband in a room with an actual bed winning over wanting his daughter to watch only educational television.

In the movie, a mermaid gives up her legs to be with the man she loves. Haru keeps watching long after Mamiko falls asleep.

 

 

Makoto lights his tenth cigarette of the day. Or the eleventh, he can’t remember. He inhales, holding it in until his lungs start to burn, and lets it out. No matter how much he smokes, it does nothing to calm the jittery feeling he’s been experiencing since he slipped out of bed with Haru, sparing only a glance at the pale shoulders and black hair draped across the pillows before leaving.

How could he have been so stupid? Sleeping with Haru was a terrible decision, no matter how he looks at it. Even though he’d meant what he said about being over his high school crush. He’d spent his time in university drinking, smoking, and experimenting with as many guys as he could get into his bed, hardening his heart, promising himself that he’d never let himself get hurt like that again.

Makoto snorts at the thought. Such typical behaviour from a wounded, hormonal teenager. So dramatic. Yet it had worked- gradually Makoto’s heart had healed (though it was certainly no longer in pristine condition) and he’d moved on, seldom even thinking of Haru anymore. Still, he was stupid to think that sleeping with him now, ten years later, would mean absolutely nothing.

Honestly, it was probably the best fuck he’s ever had- not in a physical sense, but because it was Haru. The two of them just fit so well together; Haru hadn’t changed, he was still a smart-ass, his thoughts still deep and hard to read, shoved far beneath the surface. But Makoto loves figuring him out, loves the challenge, and had especially loved opening Haru up last night, baring him, making him vulnerable, the way he’s been dreaming of since adolescence.

He can’t get it out of his head.

The patio door slides open behind him. “Something eating you?” His band’s lead guitarist leans on the balcony railing beside him.

“Nothing worth worrying about.”

“Doesn’t have to do with that minx you took home last night?”

Makoto grins at that. Haru? A minx? “Nope. I’m kind of nervous about seeing my family tonight. It’s been so long!”

“Worried they’re still gonna be upset about your career path?”

“Yeah,” he says a little too quickly, flicking ash from the tip of his smoke. “It’s strange going home again.”

His bandmate claps him on the shoulder. “Whatever’s really bothering you, don’t sweat it. I’m sure everything’ll be fine.” He was Makoto’s roommate all through university, the one who’d gotten him involved in the whole band idea in the first place, and admittedly, a participant in more than a few of his sexual escapades. Of course he can tell when he’s lying.

Makoto meets that striking turquoise gaze, his expression genuine this time. “Thanks, Sousuke.” 

 

 

At quarter after six, Haru deems it safe enough to ring the doorbell. Rei had told him to bring Mamiko back on the hour, but Haru suspects the couple might like a little extra time. He waits a few moments and has to ring the bell again. Shocker. 

“Coming!” Rei finally opens the door, breathless, wearing a pink satin robe that reveals most of his chest and far more of his thighs than Haru ever needed to see. He adjusts his crooked glasses, murmuring. “It’s Nagisa’s. I seem to have…misplaced my own.”

“DADDY!” Mamiko struggles in Haru’s arm, reaching for Rei, who scoops her up with a huge smile. 

“Ma-chan!” He kisses her cheek, then turns to Haru. “Did she eat?”

“Mackerel. And pineapple.”

“You still eat that? Well, it has far more nutritional value than cake, so I suppose I can thank you for that. Thank you for this whole day, actually.”

Haru nods to indicate it wasn’t a problem.

Rei turns to leave, letting the door start to close behind him. “Oh, wait,” he says, picking a stiff slip of paper up off of the foyer table and handing it to Haru. “Your ticket for Makoto-senpai’s show. Next Saturday.”

Haru is vaguely aware of Rei and Mamiko waving to him from the window as he walks away, gripping the ticket so hard that it cuts his finger, a drop of blood spreading across the paper.

He’s definitely going to go. Good ideas be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm warming up to the Sousuke/Makoto pairing. I'm planning to get Rin in here somehow too, eventually. I love that sulky bastard.
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	6. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto’s tone is low and dark. “You haven’t seen anything, Haru.”
> 
> Haru meets his eyes. “Yet.”
> 
> “Yet?”
> 
> “Yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short again, sorry. More NSFW next chapter ;)
> 
> Chapter title and lyrics to Makoto's song come from OLDCODEX's "Heaven" (which I incidentally cannot for the life of me find a full English translation of, so I had to sneak some Japanese in there. Don't ask me what it means, Google translate was about as helpful has a stag beetle.)

After his shift on Saturday (he’d had to trade with another cook) Haru sits in the bath, examining the faint, yellowing rings barely distinguishable around his wrists. He wishes they would resurface. He feels Makoto getting further away from him as the bruises fade. 

He could ask Nagisa for Makoto’s number, but he figures it would be better to ask for it directly. He doesn’t know if Makoto wants him to have it. Besides, he’s never been one for calling or texting. People had a tendency to misunderstand if you weren’t speaking to them in person. Even then, conversation compares to walking through a field of landmines.

He soaks for an hour, occasionally adding more hot water, then washes his hair. He scrubs his body until he’s red and raw, every inch of him. Tonight he has somebody to look good for. He dons the skinny jeans that Nagisa assures make his legs “go on for miles” and chooses a blue dress shirt that matches his eyes. Haru can be strategic. No, his hands are not shaking as he buttons it up, imagining strong fingers ripping them open later. Not shaking much, at least. 

Haru decides against wearing any cologne. He hates the way it smells on him, and besides, it won’t mix well with the smoke at the show. He takes extra care in combing his hair, examining the overall effect in the mirror. Haru hates mirrors, but he suspects the landlord would be less than impressed if he took the mirrored doors off of the medicine cabinet.

He looks pale, almost vampiric. Expressionless. He attempts a smile. It makes his mouth look like some kind of horrific scar on his face, so he drops it. Well, he supposes the shirt does make his eyes stand out. He wonders what Makoto will see when he looks at him.

 

 

“Beer, Haru-chan?” Nagisa pauses in the midst of ordering, looking in Haru’s direction. 

He shakes his head. He needs complete control over his mental faculties tonight.

Nagisa’s cheeks puff (because he’s part squirrel.) “Aw, that’s no fun.” He proceeds to order an obscene amount of alcohol. 

“Who do you presume will be drinking all of that?” Rei narrows his eyes, suspicious.

Nagisa leans across the table, getting his face as close to Rei’s as possible without his butt breaking contact with his chair. “Figure it out, detective,” he purrs. “Since Mamiko’s with your mom this weekend, I’m gonna get you so drunk.”

“Nagisa,” Haru warns. The eye-fucking is bad enough, but- “that’s not Rei’s leg. It’s mine.”

“Oops!” Nagisa’s eyes widen in feigned innocence, but he can’t contain his laughter. “Oh my god! I guess that’s more action than you expected to get tonight.”

Haru’s eyes jerk toward the empty stage, he can’t help it. He keeps them there long enough to make it look like he meant to do it; he’s never seen a microphone stand before and it’s the neatest thing. He can sense Nagisa’s eyes on him.

“I was kidding, yeesh! Don’t be-” but the huge tray of drinks arrives before Haru gets to hear what he shouldn’t be. He’s okay with that.

“Rei-chan, these are for you,” Nagisa says, sliding about a third of the drinks across the table.

Amusement spreads over Rei’s face. “Indeed…you’ll be drinking the other eight?”

“Yep.”

“I wasn’t aware that I’d married an alcoholic,” he says dryly.

“You have to love me in good times and in bad, Rei-chan. In sickness and in health.”

“If you consume all that, the probability of you getting sick tonight will-” 

The grating blare of the mic adjusting cuts Rei off, the stage lighting up. An emcee introduces the band as they take the stage, starting with the pink-haired drummer, the bass guitar player, then the towering lead guitarist, and finally Makoto, who takes the mic with an emphatic thank you and a bow.

Haru’s heart jolts as he makes eye contact, but Makoto’s eyes only linger for a half-second as he sweeps his gaze over the audience. He’s wearing ripped jeans that cling fetchingly to his thighs and a dark long-sleeved shirt with some English writing on it. It’s tight enough to highlight the muscle of Makoto’s chest and arms. 

“Thank you all for coming!” His voice is mellow, but loud enough to be heard clearly over the crowd’s applause. “We’re gonna start with a song called Heaven, and then see how we’re feeling after that. We’ve got some new stuff for you guys tonight, too!”

With that he clears his throat and the music starts up. 

“DANCE! WANTED MORE TIME  
DANCE!” 

When Makoto starts singing, everything else ceases to exist for Haru. His heart beats painfully in his chest as though each word is an arrow, piercing it. He can’t believe how different Makoto’s voice sounds as he belts out the lyrics. Rough, confident, completely different from the Makoto he’s always known, yet somehow sexier than all hell. 

“DON’T HURT YOURSELF-”

Haru sits, transfixed.

“TONIGHT, GO AHEAD,  
JIBUN NO SEI? MY APPROACH TO PAIN-

DANCE! DANCE THE NIGHT AWAY!”

 

 

By the end of the night, Haru is a bundle of frayed nerves, Nagisa is a drunken mess, and Rei’s complaining of a headache from sitting so close to the stage.

“I enjoyed your performance, Makoto-senpai,” Rei says, allowing a swaying Nagisa to lean on him. “It’s just that…”

“Our music isn’t really your thing,” Makoto finishes, chuckling good-naturedly. Haru hears a hint of roughness in his voice from all the screaming; imagines Makoto whispering his name with that voice... He shifts uncomfortably.

Nagisa reaches forward to touch Makoto’s arm, missing by a couple of inches and nearly toppling into him. “Mako-chan rocks!” His eyes widen momentarily. “Hear that, rocks! Like rock n’ roll. 'sa joke. ‘sfunny,” he murmurs.

“I’m glad you liked it, Nagisa-kun,” Makoto says patiently. “That means so much coming from you.” He looks at Haru from the corner of his eye.

“I loved it,” Haru says.

A smile tugs up the corner of Makoto’s mouth, eyes glittering. “I could tell by the way you were staring.”

“Are Mako-chan n’ Haru-chan getting along now?” Nagisa asks Rei, in what is quite possibly the loudest whisper Haru’s ever heard.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Rei says, leading Nagisa away.

Before Haru can break the silence, he feels a presence looming behind him, startlingly close, and cranes his head around to see the lead guitarist, who’s one of the biggest guys Haru’s seen in a long time. That’s saying something, considering Makoto.

“Hi, I’m Yamazaki Sousuke.” He offers Haru his hand for a few moments, but lets it fall to his side when he realizes Haru isn’t going to take it. There’s something about this guy that Haru doesn’t trust.

“We were roommates in University,” Makoto says. “He had the idea to start a band. Sousuke, this is…” A flash of uncertainty crosses Makoto’s face before he can cover it up.

“Nanase Haruka,” Haru finishes.

Recognition lights up Yamazaki’s eyes as he takes in Haru’s deadpan gaze and Makoto’s smile (a little too wide to be natural.) So Makoto’s told him everything. Interesting.

“Ah, so you’re Nanase,” Yamazaki says, brows arching. “Pleasure to meet you.” He claps Makoto on the shoulder as he moves to leave, directing a look at him that’s- what? Sympathetic? Cautionary? “I’ll see you later, eh?”

Haru decides that he doesn’t like Yamazaki.

“He seems…” Haru doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“He’s been my best friend for ten years,” Makoto says, a slight edge in his voice. “He’s a great-”

“I’m sorry to intrude on your conversation,” Rei interrupts, inadvertently giving Haru a chance to recover from feeling as though he’s been slapped. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re leaving.” 

Nagisa has his fingers curled through two of Rei’s belt loops, his coy face flushed with alcohol. “We’re gonna have sex,” he confides to nobody, and effectively everybody.

“That remains to be seen,” Rei says to him, rather sharply.

“Boo! You grump.” He presses his face against Rei’s shoulder, to the effect that his next sentence is rather garbled, but Haru catches something about “haven’t since last weekend.”

Makoto coughs sheepishly. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine once I get him home.” Rei looks genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, Makoto-senpai, I think in order to have a decent conversation we’re going to have to schedule coffee or dinner, or something like that. Could I call you tomorrow to arrange something? We would really like to catch up.” He glances at Nagisa, whose fingers are slowly worming their way towards Rei’s belt buckle. He clasps the offending hand to stop it. “When this one can behave.”

“Sure, as long as it isn’t too early- I look forward to it. I still need to hear about your daughter!”

“We’ll bring ‘er!” Nagisa slurs excitedly.

Makoto nods. “I’d love that.”

It takes another ten minutes for Rei to gather his things and shepherd Nagisa, who keeps trying to strip either Rei or himself, toward the exit. 

“I’ve never seen Nagisa drunk. That was…something.”

Haru likes the way Makoto worries. “It’s harder to tell, but Rei’s tipsy, too.” 

“Huh. I honestly didn’t notice.”

“He’s a grouchy drunk.” Haru doesn’t know how to voice the question he’s been waiting to ask all night, but he’s happy to have the chance to talk to Makoto about anything.

“And Nagisa’s a nympho?”

Haru nods. “They did it in the bathroom last time.”

Makoto scratches the side of his nose, giggling. “It’s hard to imagine sweet, innocent Nagisa becoming such a sexual deviant.” As if trespassing, lock-picking, borderline-stalker Nagisa had ever been innocent.

Haru can do nothing to stop the snort of laughter that practically tears out of him. “You’re one to talk.” There. He brought it up- sex. Haru could almost smile at his own conversational wizardry.

Makoto’s tone is low and dark. “You haven’t seen anything, Haru.”

Haru meets his eyes. “Yet.”

“Yet?”

“Yet.”

Makoto releases a slow breath, and Haru knows he has him. “Your place, then. I’m not paying for another hotel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My roommate told me that the last sex scene was too vanilla. Honestly. So I'm warning you, I'm gonna try to step up my game. Let's have some fun :D
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	7. Raspberry Sorbet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Haru…I know you hate talking, but we need to…clarify…exactly what this is.”
> 
> “This?”
> 
> “Yes. What is this? What are we doing here?”
> 
> Haru stares at the fish in the bowl on his coffee table.
> 
> “Haru.” His voice is hard.
> 
> He really, really doesn’t want to talk about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partly inspired by this pic.

Makoto pulls away from Haru in the middle of a heated kiss. “Gotta stop at a drugstore.”

Haru shakes his head, ignoring the dirty looks from the cab driver. “Got some.”

“Condoms?” He sounds incredulous. “And lube?”

Haru nods, grasping the front of Makoto’s shirt and tugging him in to continue the kiss. He’d be happy if they could go the rest of the way to his apartment without his tongue leaving Makoto’s mouth. It feels and tastes like heaven.

But Makoto ends it again after a few short minutes. “So you planned this.”

Haru’s pleased to hear that Makoto’s breathing is a tad short. He says nothing, letting a smirk curl the edge of his lips.

This time Makoto’s the one crushing his mouth against Haru’s, their tongues licking hungrily alongside each other, desperate, needy. Haru drinks it in, feeling the heat rise in his face and his lower belly tighten deliciously; he’s already half-erect.

He slides his hand tentatively up Makoto’s thigh, aiming for the growing bulge he hopes will be there, but stops at an obnoxious cough from the driver.

“Get us there in five and you’ll get the biggest tip of your life,” Makoto practically growls at her. After that she focuses on the road, completely silent. They get to Haru’s apartment in no time; Makoto throws a couple of large bills at the driver without even looking at them (probably paying triple what the ride actually cost) letting Haru lead him away by the wrist.

Makoto slams him against the wall the second the door closes. “You’re a horny little slut tonight,” he whispers, licking Haru’s earlobe. Then he nips it, sharp, making Haru gasp and grind against him, wrapping his legs around Makoto’s waist.

Something about Makoto talking to him like that really, really gets him hot. “Only for you.”

For some reason that makes Makoto pause, disengaging Haru’s limbs. His eyes are dangerous, dark with lust, yet he pulls away so he’s no longer touching Haru. “You’re bad for me, Haru,” he says simply.

Haru’s heart stops beating for a second. No. Not this. He needs Makoto, needs the feel of him, needs him to be so rough it hurts. “You’re right. I’m bad. But only for you.”

Makoto cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Such a mouth you have these days. You really need to be punished.” He lets the last word drag out, hang in the air, a question.

Haru swallows, hard. “So punish me.”

Light sparks in Makoto’s eyes. “There are rules, Haru.”

“I know.”

“You need to do what I tell you, and if there’s something you want, you have to ask. Understand?”

Haru nods. Makoto knows how much he hates obeying rules; this is a challenge. “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll have to discipline you.” 

“How?” 

“I have a feeling you’re going to find out.” Makoto tilts his head to the side and smiles. “So. What do you want first?”

Haru doesn’t hesitate. “Strip.” Payback for last time.

Makoto looks very amused as he lifts the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, leisurely. His abs and chest flex gorgeously as he stretches, the band of his boxer-briefs peeking out of his jeans. Haru notes the trail of dark hair leading from Makoto’s belly button and disappearing into his pants; he’s no longer a swimmer, he doesn’t shave all of his body hair anymore. God, it’s hot.

Haru realizes with a slight pang that he hadn’t had enough time to truly appreciate Makoto’s body last time. A shame, really, because Haru wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life worshipping Makoto, memorizing every contour and groove of him by touch alone. On his ribs, just under his left pec-

“Is that a tattoo?” 

Makoto gracefully sheds his shirt with a flourish of his arm. “Yeah. I got it a few years ago. Like it?” He turns to the side so Haru can see better. It’s an orca, done in black and white, slightly smaller than Haru’s palm. He reaches out to touch it, only to have Makoto step back.

“You didn’t ask,” he admonishes. With that, he unbuttons his jeans and slowly slips them off. Holy hell, the way Makoto’s huge erection stretches the thin fabric of his underwear, a spot of moisture dampening the front, suddenly makes Haru’s own pants uncomfortably tight.

Haru makes a move to take them off.

“Sorry, Haru, but you didn’t ask if you could do that either.” Makoto’s clearly having fun- he doesn’t think Haru can do this. “Look at me.”

Haru’s mouth waters when he looks up from his buttons to see Makoto peeling off his underwear at a teasingly slow pace, his cock flushed and hard. Oh, fuck, does he ever want it. Bad. His ass actually clenches when he thinks about having it inside.

Makoto smiles at him silently as he grasps it in one hand, pumping himself up to his full length, shuddering and biting his bottom lip as he massages his own tip, maintaining steady eye contact.

“I almost got hard on stage thinking about you,” he says, testing Haru’s self-control. 

Watching Makoto touch himself is the sexiest thing Haru’s ever seen. Professional porn has nothing on him.

“What about me?”

Makoto hums deep in his throat, pretending to think. “The way your legs felt on my shoulders. How good your tight ass felt squeezing down on me.” Now he increases his pace, closing his eyes and releasing a long breath through his nose. “But mostly…ahhh…the way your voice s-sounded when you-”

Haru’s on him before he can finish his sentence, kissing him, replacing Makoto’s hand with his own. Surprisingly, Makoto hesitates, nearly giving in, but thinks better of it and pushes Haru off with a gentle hand on his chest.

“That was definitely against the rules.” His voice is throaty, rough. “I want you on your knees.”

Haru loves that voice, it sends shivers of electricity straight down his spine, through his stomach, pushing beads of precum out. He keeps looking up at Makoto’s face as he gets to his knees, flattening his hands and holding them up next to Makoto’s thighs, letting them hover there without making contact.

“Ask.”

“Can I touch you?”

Makoto nods, placing a hand on the back of Haru’s head. “I want you to suck me off with that smart mouth of yours.”

Haru trembles at the thought, running his hands over the thick muscle of Makoto’s legs, gently stroking his inner thighs, trying to distract himself from how nervous he is. He works his hands up over the ridges of Makoto’s hips, feeling his abs, trailing his fingers through the coarse hair below Makoto’s belly, finally grasping his cock. It’s so thick that Haru’s fingers don’t meet.

Closing his eyes, Haru opens his mouth and cautiously tongues Makoto’s tip, the tang of precum heavy in his mouth. Huh. It’s not so bad. He starts sucking, swirling his tongue around to flick at the sensitive underside. Makoto’s soft gasps alone are enough to spur him on as he finds his rhythm, bobbing his head and coating Makoto’s dick with a mixture of precum and saliva, his lips smacking noisily.

Haru lets his free hand wander up the back of Makoto’s leg, giving his ass a firm squeeze and eliciting a low growl. 

“God, yes…like this…” Haru can feel him struggling to hold his hips still.

Makoto’s voice gets Haru too excited and he miscalculates how much he can handle, gagging as Makoto hits the back of his throat. 

The next second Makoto’s trying to pull away, but Haru holds him fast; incredibly, Makoto’s erection swells even bigger. Interesting. Haru deep throats him on purpose this time, playing up his gag. Makoto groans, twining his hands in Haru’s hair. Haru bobs his head forward once more.

“F-Fuck, Haru, hold still.” He tugs Haru’s hair, forcing him to stop moving, looking at him with a serious expression, his face flushed with arousal. 

Haru pulls off of Makoto with a wet sound, smacking his lips. “Fuck my mouth.”

The stunned look on Makoto’s face is priceless. 

“Gagging turns you on.”

“Yeah…it doesn’t bother you?”

“No.”

Makoto brushes Haru’s cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes tender. “I get myself off thinking about it. You need to- to tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I will.” He doesn’t plan on telling him to stop anything. He takes Makoto back into his mouth, loving the feel of strong hands tugging his hair, holding his head still. Haru sucks the moisture from the tip, working his tongue- and then Makoto’s hips start to move, slow and smooth, working his cock into the back of Haru’s throat. He breathes through his nose, hollowing his cheeks, creating a tight space for Makoto to fuck. 

Haru swallows a mouthful of precum, making Makoto moan. Haru waits until Makoto’s deep in the back of his throat and tries swallowing again, squeezing down around him. He can feel Makoto’s body tremble under his hands.

“Fuck, Haru,” Makoto groans, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

Haru drags his nails down Makoto’s stomach, tightening his throat again, and feels Makoto’s orgasm shake through his pelvis, a hot spurt of liquid filling his mouth. Haru pulls away, surprised, as Makoto releases more shots of come on his face.

Again, Haru is mildly surprised by the fact that he doesn’t find it that bad. Having sweat-soaked, post-orgasmic Makoto staring down at him like he’s the most delectable dish on the table definitely sweetens the experience.

“Makoto.”

“Yes?” Makoto manages through his panting.

Haru loves seeing him unglued like this. “Can I wipe my face off?”

“Yes. Yeah, of course.” 

Haru strips his shirt and uses it to clean his face as thoroughly as possible before tossing it down beside Makoto’s clothes.

When he looks back up, Makoto captures Haru’s face in his big hands and kisses him. It’s different this time, soft. Haru wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck, threading his fingers in his hair and tugging. He wants him.

Makoto stiffens when Haru bites his lower lip. Haru can tell he’s feeling guilty about coming on his face.

“You lied.”

Makoto’s brow furrows. “What?”

“I thought you were going to teach me about sexual deviancy.”

Makoto pulls him close, laughing against his ear. “Getting a facial on your second time doesn’t count?”

“No.” He likes the way Makoto’s hot breath tickles his skin.

“You really are way sluttier than I thought. I’m…surprised.”

As much as Haru would love to have a long discussion about how surprising their sex is, the erection rubbing against his zipper is starting to get painful. 

“Can I take my pants off?”

Makoto steps back to get a better view. “Go ahead.”

Haru’s pants hit the floor barely a second later.

Makoto works his mouth a few times before he can speak. “Commando?”

Haru shrugs, letting his eyes wander down Makoto’s body to settle on his dick, which is semi-erect again already. His patience is gone.

“Makoto,” he huffs. “Can you…”

“What, Haru?” His smile is blinding.

“Bend me over the couch and fuck me. Please,” he adds, just to be polite. If he’s going to be a slut, he at least wants to be classy about it.

Makoto is next to him in a heartbeat, kissing him again, the heat and passion back tenfold. He runs his hands down Haru’s back to cup his ass, slipping his tongue in and out of his mouth in a way that makes Haru recall the slick wetness of Makoto’s tongue delving in and out of his hole. He doesn’t bother trying to stifle his moans.

Makoto lifts him easily in his strong arms, carrying him into the living-room and setting him down on the back of the couch, his lips never leaving Haru’s. With one hand he supports Haru’s lower back, the other brushing lightly up his chest to toy with a nipple. Makoto finally extracts his tongue from Haru’s mouth, kissing and licking a trail down his jaw and nipping at his collarbone. 

“Where’s the stuff you got?”

Haru knows exactly what he means. “Kitchen table, brown bag.”

He feels cold without Makoto’s hands on him, but at least he gets to watch him walk away. Haru bites his lip as he stares at Makoto’s ass. A few seconds after he disappears around the corner, Haru hears the rustling of a paper bag, which he expected, and then the sound of the fridge opening, which he didn’t. He hears glass clinking together and then a soft “ah!”

When Makoto returns, he’s holding the paper bag of condoms and lube in one hand and a jar and spoon in the other. 

“Raspberry jam,” Makoto says, crouching in front of Haru and twisting open the lid. “Since you don’t have whipped cream, or chocolate sauce, or anything remotely conventional.”

“I’m glad you can improvise.”

Makoto smiles and uses the spoon to smear a line of jam along Haru’s torso, the cold concoction raising goosebumps on his skin. Setting the jar down, Makoto licks the spoon clean in the most suggestive way possible before reaching up to kiss Haru. It tastes amazing; Haru can’t resist sucking on Makoto’s tongue like a popsicle.

Makoto releases a soft groan and pulls away, lapping at the raspberry stickiness on Haru’s skin. He proceeds to spend several minutes covering Haru’s shoulders and chest in big, raw love bites, holding his hips firmly so he can’t squirm.

Haru is a panting, shuddering mess by the time Makoto finally works his way down his stomach to his thighs. His cock keeps twitching, leaking precum in thick dribbles that drip down onto the fabric of his couch. He’s never cared less about cleaning up in his life.

Makoto lifts one of Haru’s legs, marking him with dozens of sharp bites, tugging and sucking at the skin until it’s red and tender. When he reaches the sensitive crease at the top of Haru’s leg, Haru trembles violently, pulling Makoto’s hair.

Makoto stops, looking up at him with lusty, hooded eyes. 

Haru sighs, a short impatient sound.

“Say it.”

Haru licks his lips. “Eat me out. Please.”

A wicked smile spreads across Makoto’s face, his eyes glittering. “You liked that?”

Haru slips from his perch, turning around and bending over the back of the couch with his legs spread, ass completely on display, tilting his head back to watch Makoto’s reaction.  
Makoto stares unabashedly, feeling around for the jar and dipping his finger into it. “Spread yourself for me.”

Haru complies, his hole already clenching in anticipation. Several moments pass, long enough for Haru to get impatient. “Makoto.” It comes out as a whine. Damn.

Makoto chuckles and delicately traces his finger, cool from the jam, from Haru’s tailbone all the way to his sack, then back to lightly circle his entrance. Haru buries his face in the back of the couch, hoping it’ll cover up his frustrated groan. Just when he’s considering giving up and using his own fingers (fuck the consequences) he feels a much firmer pressure licking at his balls. 

Suddenly Makoto’s sucking on him so hard that he feels heat pooling in his stomach, his voice wavering.

“I’m- I’m-” and then it’s gone, leaving Haru panting, more precum spurting from his tip and dripping down the inside of his leg. 

After a few moments Makoto starts licking again, cleaning the jam from his skin, making his way up to Haru’s hole. He sucks and nibbles lightly around the outside, flicking his tongue close to the edge but never entering.

“Makoto, please!” Haru keens. He doesn’t care anymore, he’s been so hot and so hard for such a long time- Makoto’s teasing might actually kill him.

To his relief, he feels Makoto’s tongue inside him, slipping in an out, moving as though he’s giving him a passionate kiss. Haru’s knees wobble as a powerful shiver travels through his body. He moans, loud, and he admits that yes, maybe he does sound a bit like a slut. He probably shouldn’t feel so proud about it, though.

Makoto continues to tongue-fuck him for a long time, stroking the back of Haru’s thighs, having him continue to hold himself open. Haru’s reduced to a pile of quivering, whimpering jelly, his hole twitching uncontrollably around Makoto’s tongue.

“Please, please fuck me!”

The pressure of Makoto’s tongue recedes, leaving Haru cold and numb. He hears the paper bag rustle and then the cap pop off of the lube. 

“I want you to get on the couch and kneel across the arm of it, hands behind your back.”

Haru’s shoulders are already getting sore from holding them behind him for so long, but he’s so eager to be fucked that he does exactly as he’s told. A second later he feels Makoto’s weight on the couch behind him and feels something soft around his wrists. A thrill of excitement jolts through him.

Makoto pauses.

“Do it,” Haru gasps, and Makoto proceeds to tie a loose knot in what Haru realizes must be a tea towel.

He rubs his hands down Haru’s body, kissing him and giving his shoulders love bites. Haru hears the squelch of the lube bottle, and then, finally, a finger presses into him. Haru trembles, forcing himself not to grind his hips down yet. Makoto makes quick work of opening Haru up, burying two fingers deep inside and crooking them against Haru’s sweet spot. Makoto adds a third finger, the stretch making Haru’s hips and ass ache. The combination of pain and pleasure is enough to make Haru see stars.

He clenches down hard on Makoto’s fingers, letting him know he’s ready. The pressure slides out of him and Haru waits, tense, as he hears a foil packet open and the slick sound of lube being spread across skin.

Makoto presses against Haru’s back, his hard cock resting along the crease of his ass, and whispers into Haru’s ear. 

“Haru, look at me.”

Haru turns to look at him, surprised when Makoto presses their lips together. 

“I’ll be caref-”

“Don’t.”

Makoto’s breath is warm on the back of his neck. “Don’t be careful?”

“No. I want it,” Haru swallows. “Rough.”

With that, Makoto pushes his cock against Haru’s hole, burying it with a few thrusts. Haru moans, grinding down against him, the angle much better than the last time they were together. 

Haru loses track of how long they go at it, forgetting everything but the white hot pleasure blossoming inside him, Makoto pressing against his back with every thrust, a rough voice saying his name over and over until finally, finally, he succumbs, a wordless cry tearing from his lips as he arches his back and comes.

As his orgasm wracks his body, Haru is faintly aware of Makoto following him over the edge, shuddering against his back. He smiles afterwards, listening to Makoto trying to catch his breath as he unties the towel. 

Haru massages his wrists while Makoto heads down the hall toward the bathroom. He hears the water running and the wet slap of the condom hitting the bottom of the garbage can.

“Are you going to leave now?” Haru asks when he returns.

“I should,” Makoto sighs, pulling his crumpled underwear back on. “Haru…I know you hate talking, but we need to…clarify…exactly what this is.”

“This?”

“Yes. What is this? What are we doing here?”

Haru stares at the fish in the bowl on his coffee table.

“Haru.” His voice is hard.

He really, really doesn’t want to talk about this.

Makoto sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes,” Haru breathes.

“…Okay.” 

Haru’s eyes travel around the room until he finds the clock. Nearly three in the morning. They’d been doing it for hours.

“Can we go to bed?”

Makoto’s face softens. “Yeah.”

When they are both squished into the twin bed, exhausted from sex, Haru drapes his arm and leg over Makoto, like they’re lovers. Makoto falls asleep easily beneath him, one hand pressed against Haru’s naked back. 

Haru stays awake for a long time, listening. 

Wondering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a bit of Thugisa next chapter. If you don't understand the ref, idk where you have _been_ , but go watch this _immediately._
> 
> Also hit me up at [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	8. Busted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto senses the danger before he sees it, written all over Nagisa’s face as he stalks toward them, slamming his hands down on the table hard enough to make the soy sauce bottles clatter together. 
> 
> “Mako-chan…” His voice is like a knife coated in honey. “What the fuck did you do to Haru?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some real Reigisa! I'm so happy. Though the chapter ended way differently than I originally intended.

Nagisa focuses on the broken breathing above him, running his tongue up the underside of Rei’s erection. He peers up at Rei, who’s still wearing his glasses (of course,) face flushed.

“Just a little more, babe.”

Rei nods and hugs his knees closer against his chest, brow furrowed in concentration. Nagisa’s lubricated fingers squelch loudly as he pushes them deeper inside his lover, crooking his fingers just so and jerking his wrist. Rei’s thighs tremble and his breath hitches in the most delicious way.

Working him steadily with one hand, Nagisa holds Rei’s cock in the other and takes the tip in his mouth, deep-throating him with practiced ease.

It’s lucky for Nagisa that Rei is so easy to distract. Hopefully he’ll be too frazzled after this quickie to keep questioning him about what all exactly he took last night. Nothing! Nagisa swears it was only alcohol. Rei doesn’t need to know about the E tablets.

Nagisa presses his tongue against Rei’s slit, massaging little circles into it as he increases the speed of his fingers against Rei’s prostate.

Only minutes later, Rei arches his back off the mattress, crying out Nagisa’s name as he comes. Nagisa strokes him through his release, swallowing every ounce of come he milks out before letting Rei’s softening dick slip out of his mouth, wiping his lips with the back of his arm.

“Do you forgive me yet, Rei-chan?”

Rei lets his long, beautiful legs down to rest against Nagisa’s hips, chest heaving as he props himself up on his elbows.

“It’s a start.”

Nagisa worms his way up the bed to snuggle Rei’s side, making sure to run a hand up his sensitive thigh. God bless the Sagittarius! Nagisa giggles, because he figures God doesn’t want much to do with zodiac signs. If he exists. 

Rei adjusts his glasses, frowning. “I would appreciate an actual apology for once. You always try to get out of things using your-”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Nagisa twines his fingers through Rei’s longer ones, bringing his hand up to his lips to kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m really-honestly-and-truly sorry for falling asleep in the middle of sex last night. It’ll never happen again.”

“Because you’re never going to drink that much again.”

Nagisa only hesitates for a second- what’s another lie, in the grand scheme of things? “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“You’re full of shit.” At least he’s grinning.

“Aw, lighten up, Mr. Grumpy Gills,” Nagisa says, pressing his face against Rei’s neck and patting his stomach affectionately.

“Please don’t quote Pixar films at me post-coitus.”

Nagisa blows a gentle raspberry against Rei’s skin, finally getting a laugh out of him. They lay together in silence for a while, Nagisa drawing invisible hearts on Rei’s chest with his finger, Rei stroking Nagisa’s hair. It’s a perfect morning.

“What time should we meet up with Makoto-senpai?”

Because no, Rei can never spend more than two damn minutes relaxing.

“I dunno.”

“Well, what time do you work?” 

“I dunno.”

“Nagisa!”

“Two or three or something. I think. I have it on my phone. I’ll check it later.”

But Rei’s already getting out of bed, pulling clothes out of his half of the dresser. He shoves Nagisa’s crumpled pile of clothes closer to the bed with his foot, casting him the “you better pick these up” look.

Nagisa sighs and leans over to grab his shorts, digging through the pockets for his cell. “Rei-chan, did you grab my phone last night?”

“No, I was too busy trying to keep your hands out of my pants.”

“Shit. Shit shit shit. I fucking left it there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I came straight in here when we got home, so it can’t be anywhere else in the house.”

“So you can’t check what time you work?” Rei glances in his direction, tugging his underwear up over his ass. His ghetto booty, as Nagisa affectionately refers to it, partly because it embarrasses Rei-chan and partly because it’s true. His butt has always carried just a tad more meat than the average guy’s. Damn.

Nagisa stares at Rei, his mouth hanging open. “That’s the only problem you see with this?”

“I keep telling you,” Rei says, pulling up his pants and effectively concealing the object of Nagisa’s current affection, “that you should print off at least two hard copies of your schedule and keep them separate from each other.”

“Who the hell does that?”

“I do.”

Nagisa can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “REI. You work nine to five. Every. Fucking. Day.”

Rei pulls his shirt down over his head and gives Nagisa a blank look. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. And don’t swear! It’s uncultured.”

Nagisa lets out an exasperated sigh, grinding the palm of one hand against his forehead. It’s a good thing Rei is so damn pretty.

Rei misunderstands his frustration. “We’ll find it. I’ll call Makoto-senpai now and see if he can make brunch. Then you can go in for two,” he says, patting Nagisa’s shoulder encouragingly. “Better to be early than late.”

“Fine. Ask Mako-chan if he saw my phone.”

Rei nods on his way out to the kitchen, where his own phone is waiting faithfully on its charger, in the same spot he puts it every night before bed. He’s had the same one for five years. Nagisa has to get a new one every two months or so. It’s not his fault they break so easily. The lost ones are usually his fault, though. He admits it. 

Nagisa busies himself getting dressed and trying to brush out his mop of blond waves. The girls at work would never let him live it down if he went in to work looking like he’d stuck his head in a blender. As a gay hairstylist, he has pretty high standards to uphold.

“Makoto-senpai hasn’t seen your phone,” Rei calls from down the hall.

“What time are we meeting him?” Nagisa yells back, giving up and putting one of Mamiko’s daisy-shaped hair clips in his bangs to hold them back. 

“Half an hour. Same place we usually to go to.” 

“Sweet, I love that place! You go without me, I’m gonna stop by Haru’s place first. Maybe he has my phone.” Nagisa surveys his reflection in the mirror. 

Well, he definitely looks gay. Fabulous even, he thinks, winking at himself. Maybe he should start cross-dressing again.

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Nagisa’s banging on Haru’s door. He’s not surprised when nothing happens; he doesn’t have high expectations from the guy who literally had his doorbell disabled.

Nagisa’s prepared for this, though- he tugs a bobby pin free of his hair and deftly twists it into the right shape. It should make a serviceable lockpick. After a couple of minutes poking it around in the keyhole, checking to make sure none of Haru’s nosy neighbors are watching (this time,) Nagisa feels the lock spring open. 

He slips quietly into Haru’s apartment, scanning the counters and table for his phone. Weird. Haru’s clothes are scattered across the living room floor. 

“Haru-chan,” Nagisa calls. Or whispers loudly. Whatever. He’s probably in the bath. Making his way down the hall, Nagisa sees that the bathroom door is open a couple of inches. He peeks through the opening.

Ah, so Haru is here. His head is leaning against the back of the tub, his arms up on either side. His eyes are closed. Asleep, maybe? 

It takes a full ten seconds for Nagisa to register two things: one, there’s an open jar of jam balanced precariously on the edge of the tub, Haru’s fingers closed loosely around a spoon. It’s not like him to eat in the bath. And two…

Nagisa pushes the door open wider, stepping further into the bathroom to get a closer look. Haru’s wrists are striped with wide, red welts. But those are nothing compared to the dozens of angry purple bruises covering his chest and neck, disappearing into the water. Hickeys. Deep, painful-looking ones. Most of them have teeth marks around them.

Haru’s eyes flutter open at Nagisa’s gasp. “Why are you in here?”

“Haru, who did this to you?! I thought you stayed behind with Mako-chan last-” He gasps even louder, covering his mouth with his hands. “No. No, no…”

Haru fixes his gaze on the jam jar. The label is starting to peel off from the steam.

“Oh my god. He fucked you.”

“Get out.”

“Haru-chan, what the hell did he do to you? Are you okay? Did he-”

“GET OUT.”

 

 

Makoto leaves Haru’s place in a hurry after being woken by a call from Rei. Haru’s in the bath when he gets up, so he once again manages to avoid any awkward confrontations. Although they do still need to talk about what this thing is. 

He takes a cab back to the condo his band is using while they’re in town, stopping outside for a much needed smoke before he goes in to change. He can’t show up to brunch wearing the same clothes he had on last night. Nagisa would notice that faster than lightning.

Unfortunately, that means going inside and chancing bumping into Sousuke, who now knows that he’s been fucking around with Haru, of all people. 

Fuck. He should have come home last night, like his brain was telling him to. 

Makoto finishes his cigarette and takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He opens the door as quietly as possible, slipping off his shoes at the entrance. And...the condo is empty. Kisumi’s door is closed, so he’s likely still sleeping, but Sousuke’s is wide open and his bed is neatly made. It doesn't even look slept in. 

Makoto doesn’t want to press his luck, so he skips the shower and changes his clothes as fast as possible, re-applying deodorant in the hopes that it will help him smell somewhat clean. Or at least less like come and raspberry jam.

 

 

He somehow manages to get to the restaurant only three minutes late, looking more or less like a respectable human being.

It takes him a moment to realize that it’s Rei who’s waving at him from the table in the corner.

“Sorry,” he says, sitting down. “I have a hard time recognizing you without Nagisa glued to your side.”

Rei smiles thinly, pushing his glasses up. “It’s fine, hardly anyone does since I stopped dyeing my hair.”

“It looks good. Just...different than what I remember.” Makoto slides his menu to the side without looking at it. “What made you decide to change it, anyway?”

“There comes a point when you get too old to keep dyeing your hair whimsical primary colours,” Rei says, absentmindedly twirling a piece of raven hair between his fingers. His voice is wistful. “No matter how much more beautiful it looks.”

“Dress code at work?”

“That may have been a factor in the decision, yes,” he admits, glancing at his watch impatiently. “I’m sorry Nagisa’s late. He assured me that- oh, there he is.”

Makoto senses the danger before he sees it, written all over Nagisa’s face as he stalks toward them, slamming his hands down on the table hard enough to make the soy sauce bottles clatter together. 

“Mako-chan…” His voice is like a knife coated in honey. “What the fuck did you do to Haru?”

Makoto takes a few moments to respond. “What do you mean?” he asks, as pleasantly as possible. Rei looks about as confused as Makoto’s ever seen him, so clearly he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on.

“I mean what the fuck did you to do him in bed last night.”

“I…”

“He’s hurt, Makoto! How could you be so rough with him? He’s never even done-”

“Can we take this somewhere more private?” It’s hard to keep the edge out of his voice. This is exactly what he doesn’t fucking need right now. He can’t believe Haru told Nagisa about them.

Nagisa grinds his teeth together, equally angry. “Fine by me. The witnesses are the only thing keeping me from punching you in the face.” Makoto can tell he means it.

Rei finally reacts, having reasoned out what must have happened. “Nagisa, calm down, it’s not any of our-”

“You didn’t see him, Rei. He’s fucking covered in bite marks and bruises.”

“Nagisa-kun,” Makoto says as soothingly as possible, which takes a great deal of effort. “I didn’t do anything he didn’t ask me to. Believe me.”

Nagisa stares at him for a long time, his eyes burning. Makoto doesn’t look away. After almost a minute, the blond sighs and lowers himself into the chair beside Rei.

“So this is quite the motherfucking revelation,” he chirps.

Makoto covers his face with his hands, half-hoping that doing so will make everything disappear. He doesn’t want to have to look at their accusatory expressions. Sure enough, when he’s forced to drop his hands and mumble to the waitress that all he wants is a coffee, thanks, he catches Rei looking at him like he’s seen a ghost.

Nagisa orders enough food for four people, chattering incessantly at the waitress in the way he does when he’s upset. He waits until she leaves before addressing Makoto again.

“Haru-chan wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

Wait. What? “How...how did you find out?”

“I went over there when he...uhhhyyym, was getting out of the bath.”

“Oh.” Makoto doesn’t know what to say. He can feel his face turning red, like he’s a teenager again. Honestly.

“Are you two engaged in a romantic relationship?” Rei asks curiously.

Makoto can’t help but bark a laugh. There’s no humour in it. “It’s probably the least romantic relationship I’ve ever been in. You know how Haru is.”

Rei and Nagisa glance at each other.

“What?”

Nagisa’s eyes twinkle. “You’re so dumb sometimes.”

“How am I dumb?” Being insulted does nothing for Makoto’s temper, which is already pretty much frayed through. “Look, this isn’t high-school. I know Haru doesn’t...he never...I…” Fuck. Why is talking so hard today?

“Haruka-senpai’s been rather…” Rei searches for the correct word. “Solitary since you left.”

“What does that mean?” Makoto thinks he already knows. He did not sign up for this.

Nagisa takes a sip of his water. “It was ten times worse than when he stopped being friends with Rin. He just kind of...shut down without you.”

Makoto stands. He’s had enough of this. “Sorry to inform you, but that’s not really my problem. I wasn’t his babysitter, or brother, or, god forbid, his boyfriend. I wasn’t anything to him.”

Rei looks hurt. “You were his friend.”

“Until you fucked off to Tokyo and never spoke to any of us again,” Nagisa adds.

Makoto feels the cold creeping back into his heart. “Maybe being his friend wasn’t enough for me,” he says, his voice flat and toneless. “Maybe I wanted something for myself for once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry (so not actually sorry) to anybody who may be mad at me for changing Rei's hair. I have a black-haired Rei kink.
> 
> Hahah I can just hear Thugisa answering Makoto back. Cooooold blooded!
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	9. Rocky Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto jerks awake, the sensation of hands on him fading into a sharp, cold tingle. Every time he falls asleep he’s haunted by the same dream. He hates it. His whole body is covered in sweat, burning and freezing at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my roommate, SecretlyInLove. (She made me do it. It's not my fault, I swear!)
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)

Sousuke steps into the condo’s entryway, taking off his shoes. He can hear the t.v. on in the livingroom. “Makoto?”

“In here,” comes the less than enthusiastic reply.

Walking down the hall, he sees Makoto sitting on the couch with his glasses on, a notepad and pen laying abandoned on the coffee table in front of him, which is almost obscured by the amount of empty beer cans on top of it. Makoto has another open can in his hand.

“No luck today either?” It’s been four days since Makoto’s left the house.

“The lyrics just aren’t coming to me.”

Sousuke sighs. He hasn’t seen Makoto like this since their first year of university, back when he hadn’t known him well enough for it to hit him personally. This time it tugs at his heart in a weird way.  
He knows full well that Nanase’s the reason Makoto hasn’t even bothered getting dressed today.

“What the hell is on your pajamas?”

Makoto looks down at himself. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and orange pajama bottoms that only go halfway up his calves. “Cats. They’re cats. See?”

“Those are for girls! Where did you even get those in your size?”

“...A plus-sized women’s store.”

“Holy fuck. Why would you buy those?”

“I miss Maguro,” he whines.

“You miss...tuna? We can order tuna anytime you want.”

“Maguro! My cat. I miss her.”

He must be absolutely wasted, and it’s only three in the afternoon. “You get any sleep last night?”

“Nah. But it’s fine. Don’t worry.” 

Now Sousuke notices the dark circles under Makoto’s eyes. Honestly, the guy is a mess. Sousuke takes a seat next to him on the couch. “Normally I wouldn’t suggest this, but you really have to get some rest, man.”

“What?” Makoto looks only mildly apprehensive.

Sousuke leans in closer, noting the smell of beer and cigarettes on him. “You know in first year when your parents wanted you to switch roommates ‘cause they thought I was a bad influence on you?”

“Yeah,” Makoto whispers.

He pulls a small bag out of his hoodie pocket, holding it up. “I got some good stuff.”

As expected, Makoto shakes his head. “No, Sou…”

“I’m not kidding. It’s the best way to relax.”

Normally it takes Sousuke about an hour to convince Makoto to do it, but he’s had enough alcohol that he caves in five minutes. Sousuke thinks it’s hilarious how opposed Makoto generally is to weed,  
considering that his laid-back personality makes it seem like he’s perpetually high anyway.

It works as well as Sousuke hopes it will. Makoto’s asleep on the couch not twenty minutes later, snoring softly, glasses still resting on his face. 

Adorable.

 

 

Makoto is completely surrounded by Haru. The smell of him, the taste of him, the feeling of his smooth skin; he’s everywhere, all around, clinging to him like water. Haru’s hands and mouth are travelling all over his body, making him gasp and burn with need. His kisses are tender, the weight of him warm against Makoto’s chest.

Piercing blue eyes hover close to his face, filled with curiosity and light. “Makoto.”

Makoto jerks awake, the sensation of hands on him fading into a sharp, cold tingle. Every time he falls asleep he’s haunted by the same dream. He hates it. His whole body is covered in sweat, burning and freezing at the same time.

He’s so hard it hurts. Makoto groans, pawing at his heavy erection, hoping for some friction, some release. Why is his body doing this to him? He’s not a teenager anymore, for God’s sake. Then he realizes he’s still in the middle of the living-room. Hardly ideal for jacking off.

He hears the metallic sounds of pots clanking together and something boiling. With great effort, Makoto hooks his arm over the back of the couch and pulls himself into a sitting position, so he can see over the back of it into the kitchen.

Sousuke is standing at the stove with his back toward Makoto, wearing nothing but tight grey boxer-briefs and an apron fastened loosely around his waist. It’s not that unusual- they often walk around in their underwear, especially when it’s hot out. But this is probably the worst-timed situation in the world.

“Sousuke…”

“Yeah?” He twists around to look at Makoto, his back muscles flexing. “You feeling better?”

Makoto wavers for an instant. “Yes.”

Sousuke narrows his eyes.

“What are you making?” 

“Rice. Want some?”

“Maybe later.” Makoto gets up slowly, his back kinked up from sleeping at an odd angle. He raises his arms over his head and arches his back, groaning as he stretches.

“Jesus,” Sousuke says, eyeing his crotch.

“I’m gonna go take care of this,” Makoto informs him, as nonchalantly as he can manage, making no move toward the bathroom. 

Sousuke wipes his hands clean on his apron, turning the dial on the stove down to low. “Be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Makoto’s so horny, craving the touch of human skin, and Sousuke is right there, familiar, secure, not at all unattractive. He can’t stand the thought of another cold masturbation session. “Or you could  
do me instead.”

Sousuke pretends to consider it. “I have always liked you in glasses,” he says, smiling pleasantly as he advances on Makoto. “You and your fucking kitty cat pajamas.”

“You’re the one who’s dressed like Miss February.” Conversation, and sex, too, have always been so easy between the two of them. So safe.

Sousuke snorts and pulls his underwear off under the apron, kicking them to the side. Makoto can see evidence of his arousal tenting the white fabric at the front. “Now I am.”

Makoto smiles. Sousuke’s always been able to pull off funny and sexy at the same time. A winning mix. “I think I’d rather be Miss February today,” he says, taking his shirt off.

“Yeah? I’m up for that.”

“Can we use my box?”

Sousuke smirks at him. “You want it that bad, huh?”

Makoto has to get Haru out of his head; he has a strange feeling that Sousuke is exactly what he needs. He wants something fun with no danger attached to it.

“Yeah. I haven’t gotten off that way in a while.”

“Surprising, since you lock yourself in the bathroom at least twice a day.”

Makoto rolls his eyes. “Quit teasing me.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” Sousuke chuckles, coming close enough to Makoto to kiss him and run a hand over his crotch. It feels warm and friendly. Makoto sinks against Sousuke’s broad chest. He  
wants to be taken care of for once. He wants to be distracted.

“Your room or mine?”

“Yours,” Sousuke answers, “the bed is sturdier.”

Sousuke leads the way to the bedroom, giving Makoto a clear view of his ass. The sight of the apron strings tied into a bow at the small of Sousuke’s back, the way he moves confidently toward his goal, reminds Makoto faintly of mackerel for some reason. Mackerel and…something. He’s not quite sure what; the memory dances just out of his grasp. Whatever the reason, he finds the apron sexy  
as hell, so he follows close behind, stripping his pajamas on the way.

Sousuke’s already taking a locked black box out from under the bed, the key in his hand. He knows where Makoto keeps it.

“Any requests?”

“Surprise me.” Makoto’s getting tired of thinking about things. He’s looking forward to shutting his brain down for a few hours.

Sousuke sets the box down on the bedside table and kisses Makoto again, using gentle tongue, strong hands skillfully removing his boxers. “You really need to relax. On the bed, face down.”

Makoto lies down and rests his chin on the cool pillow so he doesn’t crush his glasses, wondering what Sousuke has planned. He tenses a little in anticipation when he hears something being squeezed out of a tube. A series of slick noises fill the room as Sousuke rubs his hands together, climbing up in the bed and straddling the backs of Makoto’s thighs. He can feel that Sousuke’s still wearing the apron. He can also feel how hard he is, pressing against his ass. Heat blossoms deep inside him.

The next moment, Sousuke places both hands flat against Makoto’s upper back and starts to massage the muscle there. Makoto lets out a deep breath, surprised, but not at all displeased. Sousuke’s hands are big enough to get a good hold on Makoto’s shoulders, his thumbs and palms digging in firmly enough to make Makoto whimper a little.

“Jesus, you’re tense.”

Makoto tends to carry a lot of stress in his neck and shoulders, it’s true; Sousuke’s well aware of this, devoting the better part of an hour to methodically grinding the soreness out of them. Makoto hisses and groans through the pain at first, trying to keep his muscles relaxed as Sousuke works out every knot in his back. Makoto’s tension starts to unravel, the pain receding into pleasure at the sensation of warm hands giving him so much attention. The lotion smells of lavender.

“Yessss…” he moans when Sousuke’s hands drift down to massage circles right below his waistline. He smiles when he feels Sousuke grow harder at the sound. “You’re so gooood…”

“I’m not done yet.” The weight on Makoto’s legs disappears as Sousuke changes his position, squeezing more lotion onto his hands. Then he gets to work on Makoto’s glutes, rubbing small, firm circles into his ass and the back of both thighs. By now, the arousal in Makoto’s belly has heightened into a slow, steady hunger. But if there’s one thing Makoto has a lot of it’s patience, and a lazy smile spreads across his face as he basks in Sousuke’s careful build-up.

Finished with the massage, Sousuke runs his hand up between Makoto’s legs, teasing his balls. The touch is so light that it makes Makoto’s skin tingle, craving more. He lets his eyes close and enjoys the contrasting feeling of being half asleep and incredibly aroused at the same time. The combination feels amazing.

Sousuke takes Makoto’s hands and binds them behind his back with something soft and silky, knowing he doesn’t even need to ask. “Roll over.”

Makoto obeys, flopping over onto his back with his arms beneath him, cold air meeting the flushed, hard cock that rests along his stomach. He opens his eyes enough to look up at Sousuke through his reading glasses. 

Sousuke sits on the bed beside him, a spreading spot of wet visible on his tented apron. He bends close and gives Makoto a kiss, removing his glasses for him. He produces a strip of black satin fabric, lifting Makoto’s head a little so he can tie it across his eyes. A blindfold.

A pleasant tremor travels through Makoto’s body when he hears Sousuke rummaging through the box.

The next touch he feels is so light that he’s barely even sure it’s there, a whisper against his skin. Sousuke runs something gently up and down Makoto’s chest and abs, the ghost-like pressure on his skin making him break out in goose-bumps. Fuck, it feels so nice, so good. He loves the way it makes him shiver, anticipating more.

Sousuke continues to tease him, running the object down Makoto’s legs and grazing them along the insides of his thighs. It makes his cock twitch, oozing beads of precum onto his stomach. His head is full of lavender scent.

The object travels back up Makoto’s body and delicately brushes against his nipple, that alone enough to draw a low moan from his lips. Then it flicks against it, hard, sending a jolt of sensation straight to his crotch. “Ah!”

It has to be the riding crop. God, Sousuke’s a fucking magician with it, teasing him thoroughly, winding him up with slow, tantalizing strokes along his skin before smacking him sharply with it, making his hips jump off the bed.

He spreads his legs apart when Sousuke nudges his knee with the crop, moving it leisurely up his leg and across the underside of his erection and gently tapping his tip. Makoto gasps and draws his knees up so that his feet are flat on the bed, opening himself up to Sousuke, who obligingly lets the crop drift lower, rubbing it against the sensitive skin around Makoto’s hole.

It feels like hours of drawn out, gentle torture before Sousuke takes the riding crop away. Makoto’s skin is so sensitive from all the stimulation that it almost hurts in some places, especially around his nipples, begging for a heavier touch.

Makoto hears Sousuke going through the contents of the box again. He has no idea what’s coming next, and is so surprised when something cold and firm is clamped on both of his nipples at the same time, pinching them hard enough to be on the brink of painful, that his back arches off the mattress.

He’s sweating now, not bothering to keep his voice down because he doesn’t care if Kisumi’s home or not.

“Wow,” Sousuke laughs, low in his throat. “Try not to come too fast, eh?”

“It’s going to take more than nipple play to-” Makoto’s choked off by his own whimper as something cold presses inside of him. “That’s freezing!”

Sousuke leans one hand on Makoto’s knee, spreading him open a little further. “Don’t clench so much. Not ‘til it’s in.” 

Of course Makoto knows that. He’s more than familiar with how Thai beads are used, but at the same time it’s difficult not to try to reject the cold, lubricated silicone being pushed inside of him, inch by inch.

Sousuke spends time moving each bead inside his entrance, stretching him out gradually as the beads get larger in size as they go. Once he gets them all in, he lets go of the handle, leaving the entire thing crammed inside of Makoto, not quite deep enough to stimulate his prostate. Makoto holds them there, loving the feeling of being full and having his muscles stretched. He tries his best not to clench down on them, which would force them out.

The task is actually rather difficult to do, since his body’s natural instinct is to push out the unfamiliar object. Especially when Sousuke removes the clamps from his nipples, leaning down to lick one with his tongue. It’s so over-sensitive now that it hurts, but that only makes Makoto curl his toes in the blanket as his hips buck up, releasing a wavering cry.

“I should gag you,” Sousuke murmurs, his hot breath against Makoto’s wet nipple, “but I won’t, ‘cause I like the sounds you make.”

Makoto moans again when Sousuke begins on the other nipple, his thighs trembling from the effort of holding in the beads. “I-I can’t hold them, Sou,” he says, letting them start to slip, the sensation of each bead rubbing against his muscle as it exits so good that he cries out. But Sousuke catches the handle and pushes them back inside, pumping in and out a few times for good measure. Makoto’s hole twitches violently, his cock spurting precum.

“O-oh my god,” he pants, the need for some kind of friction growing stronger. He concentrates on holding the beads, feeling Sousuke press another, small, round object against the base of his penis. 

It starts vibrating. Sousuke moves it up and down Makoto’s length. 

“Holy fuck,” Makoto cries, teetering on the edge of orgasm. The vibrations stop abruptly, leaving him a trembling mess. Sousuke holds the beads firmly inside him as he clenches uselessly down on them, whimpering. After waiting long enough for Makoto’s senses to calm, Sousuke pulls them out at a tortuously slow pace, bringing him almost back to the edge. 

Again and again he does this, alternating betweening running the vibrator across his dick and thrusting the beads in and out, never giving Makoto quite the friction he needs. It’s ecstasy. It’s hell.

Sousuke finally takes the beads and vibrator away, leaving Makoto empty and clenching down around nothing, his stomach and groin now completely slicked with his own wet. He feels strong hands pulling him up into a kneeling position, which he’s almost too weak to maintain on his own, arms still firmly fastened behind his back.

“Hang on,” Sousuke whispers against his lips, kissing him.

Makoto can hear a condom packet opening and the sound of Sousuke lubing himself up. Then he feels weight on the bed in front of him and hands on his waist as Sousuke maneuvers himself underneath Makoto. Makoto’s straddling Sousuke’s hips, and Sousuke uses one hand to nudge his penis up against Makoto’s hole. Makoto engulfs him easily from all the preparation. Sousuke is far larger than even the thickest Thai bead, reaching much deeper and striking straight at Makoto’s sweet spot.

Makoto shudders, hardly able to hold himself upright as he squelches down on Sousuke. Sousuke holds him steady with both hands on his hips, but his grip is loose enough to allow Makoto to move how he wants. 

It takes a minute for Makoto to realize that Sousuke isn’t going to start thrusting. He tentatively straightens on his knees, rising up off of Sousuke’s dick a few inches before sliding back down, hitting his prostate again. The sensation is almost blinding.

Sousuke supports Makoto so he doesn’t fall over on his weak legs, letting him grind down and sway his hips in exactly the way he needs to release.

Makoto fucks himself down on Sousuke again and again, faster, deeper, letting out wordless moans with each movement. His arms are numb in their bindings, his thighs shaking. The heat in his stomach coils tighter and tighter, sweat dripping down his chest and back. He’s so close, just a little harder…

Sousuke bucks his hips up into Makoto’s next thrust, driving him over the edge. His body is wracked with powerful shudders as he comes, thick strings of his release coating Sousuke’s chest.

“H-HARU!!” And oh, god, he’s barely conscious from how good this orgasm is, but he’s aware he’s said the wrong name, and he’s trying to pull away, but Sousuke holds him firm, fucking him through it until he finishes with a shuddering gasp.

Makoto can feel his face burning with shame and a knot of panic starting to form in his chest. 

“Let me go, Sousuke,” and fuck, how old is he, because he’s crying like he did the night he lost his virginity. If he had any strength left in his arms he’d snap whatever’s tied around them and go hide in the bathroom for the next week.

But Sousuke would never let him do that. Makoto feels him pull out, and then he’s wrapping his arms around Makoto and hugging him, untying his wrists and the fabric covering his eyes. Makoto can’t stand to look at him right now, he feels awful, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Hey. Don’t worry about it, man.” Sousuke rubs his back and whispers in his ear until he manages get his breathing under control. It’s embarrassing, but at least it’s Sousuke and not...somebody else.

Makoto’s finally able to pull away, wiping his face with the back of his hand, hugging himself with his other arm, as if it can stop the roiling in his gut. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, really,” Sousuke says, giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. “I think you should go have a shower or whatever, you know, calm down, and then we should talk.”

“...Yeah. Okay.”

 

Halfway through his cold shower, Makoto has to get out to throw up. He feels better after, though, and he’s glad the water is still on so Sousuke can’t hear him. He’s nervous about having to confront his feelings for Haru. He doesn’t want to admit what he knows deep down. 

When he comes into the kitchen a couple minutes later, wearing clean pajamas, Sousuke shoves a bottle of water into his hand.

“You’re probably dehydrated. Did you even eat today?” He’s dressed in gym shorts and a hoodie now, putting a pot of water on the stove.

Makoto drinks half of the water in one go. “I don’t remember.”

Sousuke rolls his eyes. “I’m making ramen. The rice was pretty much destroyed.”

“Can I have some? Please?”

“I’m making it for you, dumbass.” His tone is affectionate.

Makoto’s heart swells at how great of a friend Sousuke is. He may look tough and intimidating to outsiders, but he’s fiercely protective of the people he loves.

Sousuke rubs the back of his neck, turning to face Makoto. “I was kind of thinking...maybe we should lay off the whole friends with benefits thing for a while. I mean, you’re still in love with Nanase-”

“I am not still in love with him.” Makoto takes another sip of water, trying to wrap his head around his feelings. “I...I think I might possibly be starting to fall back in love with him. It’s different.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Sousuke says, putting noodles in the boiling water. “Until you figure it-” Sousuke’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out immediately.

Makoto can guess from his expression what’s going on, but he asks anyway. “Who’s that?”

“Uh, it’s this guy I met after our last show,” he admits, smiling as he shoves the phone away. “I actually meant to mention this before- so, it turns out there was a representative from a big record label there. She wants to sign us on.”

Makoto’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s great news! You should have told me.”

“I meant to, but the thing is, she wants us to have enough songs for a whole new album ready before she’s willing to negotiate.”

“And you didn’t tell your songwriter this because…?”

“I just didn’t want to put pressure on you. You’re already having a rough time with lyrics.”

“I didn’t know how seriously we needed new songs. I promise I’ll get something done tomorrow.”

Sousuke sets a bowl of ramen in front of Makoto. “Don’t push yourself. I don’t want shit lyrics just because they’re fast.”

“Thanks, Sou,” Makoto says, an edge of sarcasm in it. He hadn’t noticed how ravenous he was until now. “They won’t be shit.”

“Yeah, I know. You never write shit.” They sit across from each other at the table, Sousuke checking his phone again, letting his food get cold.

Makoto swallows his last mouthful. “So tell me about this guy.”

“Hah…” Sousuke laughs in the nervous way that tells Makoto how much he actually likes this new guy. “He’s the representative’s brother. He uh, came to pick her up after our meeting. We kinda got to talking, and...I dunno, man, he’s...we have the same taste in music- he likes our stuff, actually- and he’s….super funny, and smart. Hard to find that these days.”

Makoto’s eyebrows couldn’t get any higher on his face. Sousuke hadn’t said one thing about this guy’s “sweet ass” or “killer abs.” He must REALLY like him. “Are you two sleeping together?”

Sousuke’s on his phone again, and doesn’t answer until he’s done. “No, not yet. But I figure casual sex with other guys isn’t the way to change that. Not with this one.”

Makoto laughs. “Wow, Sousuke, I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”

“Oi, don’t ruin the moment.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I think it’s cool. And you’re right.”

“Huh?”

“I mean about us cooling it.”

Sousuke meets his eyes and smiles. “Thanks. I knew you’d understand.”

Makoto does understand. He takes one look at Sousuke smiling like an idiot at his phone, and he remembers how he spent most of his free time in high-school doing that. When Haru could be bothered to reply to his messages, that is. Makoto’s only a touch jealous at how well this seems to be going for Sousuke. He’s mostly happy. Completely, genuinely happy.

“It’s no problem.” Suddenly he feels shy. “Thanks for, for everything tonight. I do feel a lot better. I’m gonna go see if I can get some sleep.”

“Yeah, me too.” Sousuke stands, putting his empty bowl in the sink next the fridge. Then he pulls a small card out from under a magnet on the refrigerator door, handing it to Makoto. “This is the rep’s business card. She told me to tell you to-.”

Makoto’s too stunned to hear the rest of what Sousuke’s saying. The business card is simple, it sports the name of the record company and underneath that-

Matsuoka Gou.

“S-Sousuke.”

“What?”

“I went to high-school with a Matsuoka Gou. Are you...is her brother named Rin?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“...Shit.”


	10. Smart Investments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Rei says with no hesitation, “because no matter how much it hurt, what I have with him now is completely worth it. Just as I’d dive into that swimming pool a thousand times over without knowing how to swim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like dialogue, cause here's a shit tonne of it. I sure do like writing it :)

“Ryuugazaki-san?”

Rei hurriedly looks up from his lap where his phone is hidden as discreetly as possible. “Yes?”

He always has his cell on during meetings in case of emergencies concerning Mamiko, but Nagisa makes a frequent habit of abusing that fact. Rei should have known better than to check the message, but the number was unfamiliar and he was terrified it was the hospital or police or something trying to contact him, forgetting momentarily that the authorities were hardly likely to send him a casual text message in such an event. 

The attached image reveals a glimpse of supple, pale thighs, the slight curve of girlish hips, one pale cherry eye closed in a cheeky wink, gold hair mussed against the pillow. Nagisa must have picked up his new phone. Now Rei’s suddenly faced with trying to control his libido in the middle of a board meeting when he’s supposed to be listening to the department managers pitch quarterly reports.

“I was asking what your thoughts were on introducing a different filing system.” The head of accounting proceeds to explain in great length the changes she wants to make, Rei struggling desperately to focus on her words as he feels the phone vibrate again against his leg.

“I think it would be best to prepare a detailed proposal for review at the next budget meeting,” he manages, fixing his glasses. “Email it to my secretary.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, returning to her seat to make room for the head of the IT department. Rei tells himself not to check his phone again. It’s bound to be another pornographic photo from Nagisa. The problem with logic, Rei laments silently, is its ability to justify nearly any action, if a person was trying hard enough. For all he knows, the message is not from Nagisa-kun, but is pertaining to an actual emergency. It may not be likely, but it’s still a legitimate possibility. 

It would be neglectful of his parental duties not to look.

This time it’s a shot of Nagisa with his legs splayed, hand obscuring all but the tip of his cock as he strokes himself, head tilted back and mouth open in what Rei can only imagine is a wanton moan, staring directly at the camera through thick lashes.

Rei snaps his eyes back to the presentation board in front of him, willing the blush out of his cheeks. Graphs! Focus on the graphs; there’s nothing better than a good pie chart! He hopes to god that he won’t have to stand up at any point during this meeting. 

It’s not even noon. How had Nagisa even managed to take a picture at that angle? Rei’s brain hurts from trying to puzzle it out.

This is going to be a long day.

Rei usually enjoys the quarterly meetings, so much so that he’s become the brunt of many office jokes (not that he had any real chance of avoiding them, anyway- he's not called Resting Bitch Face Ryuugazaki behind his back for no reason) but today he feels relieved to finally retreat to his office.

He sits at his desk, palms flat in front of him. He is not going to masturbate at work, he is not going to masturbate at work he-is-not-going-to-masturbate-at-work.

He snaps his phone open before it can finish vibrating. 

Unknown Number (13:14): u wearin them???? ;D ;D ;D

Outgoing Message (13:16): Yes. You didn’t leave me much choice.

Unknown Number (13:17): omg rei-chan send a pic!!!!!

Outgoing Message (13:17): No! I’m at work.

Unknown Number (13:18): ill send u more of meeeeee 

Rei considers this for a moment. He is already wearing them, after all. It would only take a second. The benefits for him in this situation greatly outweigh the cons. Logically, it’s better to bear a small embarrassment now for a high payoff later. Perhaps even tonight, if they’re lucky.

Standing, Rei makes sure that his door is locked before unzipping his suit pants and letting them drop to his knees. He hooks his fingers under the hem of his underwear and adjusts them carefully so that they sit smoothly on his hips, hugging the top of his ass tightly. He had woken up this morning to find his underwear drawer empty except for a small shred of lacy purple fabric at the bottom and a note: happy half-anniversary, babe! <3

Nagisa had pretended to still be asleep when Rei questioned him about it; by that point he was running late, so he gave up.

Rei had grimaced when he slipped the underwear on; the thong highlights the parts he hates most about his body. The strip of lace at his hips accentuates how curvy they are, and his ass- the delicate fabric somehow manages to lift and separate, framing it in a lavender flower motif. 

He would look gorgeous, if he were a woman. But he most definitely is not a woman, and hence, he finds the effect incredibly embarrassing. The only reason he put them on is to make Nagisa-kun happy. That being said, Rei supposes there’s no point in pretending he isn’t going to send the picture.

Outgoing Message (13:21): Fine. One.

Unknown Number (13:21): YESSSS OMGGGGG I CANT WAIT!!! <3 ~(^_^~)

Snapping a few photos, Rei chooses the one he thinks Nagisa will like most (his own inner voice protesting violently that no, that one is in fact the least beautiful photograph ever taken of him,) and clicks the text message button next to it. Scrolling through the list, he selects Hazuki Nagisa and presses send.

Then he waits for a reply. Usually they’re almost instantaneous, especially at this time of day. Nagisa shouldn’t have left for work yet. After several silent minutes, Rei decides he should try to get some actual work done and opens the lid of his laptop.

The phone vibrates.

Rei snatches it up so quickly he almost drops it, opening it to his conversation with Nagisa.

Unknown Number (13:34 PM): come on rei-chan, pretty please !!!!!!!

What? Where did the photo go? It’s not here, yet he distinctly remembers sending it to Nagisa! Then, with a twinge of fear, he realizes.

Outgoing Text (13:36): I sent it to your old number by accident.

Unknown Number (13:36): X_X omg rlly? LMAO

Outgoing Text (13:37): It’s not funny. What if somebody sees it?

Unknown Number (13:38): they wont know its u, dont worry. send it to meeee im horny as fuck! D: D:

Unknown Number (13:38): 8==D - - - ;D

Rei triple-checks this time before he sends it. He hopes Nagisa’s old phone fell down a sewer grate. Even if it hadn’t, it shouldn’t be in service now that Nagisa had activated his new phone. Rei should have nothing to worry about. But he has an odd feeling that he just isn’t that lucky.

While he’s waiting for Nagisa’s response, Rei obsessively goes over scenarios in his head where somebody he knows finds the phone, still in service, and somehow recognizes him from the photo. His horrified thoughts are interrupted by his assistant on the PA system.

“There’s a call for you on line one, sir.”

“Thank you.” Rei picks up the phone, fully expecting to hear Nagisa’s voice on the other end. “Hello, this is Ryuugazaki Rei.”

“Rei-san, it’s Makoto.” Makoto?

“Hi, Makoto-senpai! Please, don’t call me Rei-san. It’s strange.”

“Rei-kun, then?”

“I would prefer that, yes. Is there something I can do for you?” It doesn’t strike him as odd that Makoto has his work number; he’s searchable on Yahoo, after all.

“I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last Sunday.”

“Makoto-senpai…”

“No, really, I was stressed and I ended up taking it out on you two. It was unfair of me.”

“I accept your apology, though I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“You aren’t pissed at me?”

“Not particularly.” Rei has never been “pissed” in his life. “I think how you reacted was...understandable.”

Makoto sighs lightly. “Thank goodness. I’ve been feeling guilty about it. About...everything.”

“There’s no need. Nagisa-kun will simmer down eventually, too. Haruka-senpai keeps saying it wasn’t your fault.”

A moment of silence. Makoto’s voice is subdued the next time he speaks. “About Haru...I was wondering if, if you’d be willing to tell me how he’s doing.”

Rei senses the worry underlining his request. “If you’re concerned about his health, I assure you he’s fine. Nagisa has a tendency to over-exaggerate things.”

A chuckle, but it sounds more relieved than anything. “I remember.”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? I’ll answer any questions you have.”

“I don’t know if that’s-”

“Nagisa won’t be home until after eight.”

Makoto takes a moment to consider. “In that case, I accept. It’s not that I don’t want to see him,” he adds, “I’m just not ready for all of his accusations.” 

Rei makes plans for Makoto to arrive at six. That should give him plenty of time to pick up Mamiko from daycare and get dinner started. After marking it down in his planner, Rei flicks open his cell to find seven messages from Nagisa, all with attached images.

He suspects he’s not going to get any work done this afternoon.

 

 

Haru is attempting to take an afternoon nap after working the breakfast shift. Attempting, because the cellphone he’s keeping in his bedside table drawer has been buzzing incessantly for the better part of an hour. He thinks vaguely that he could turn it off, but that would require moving from his perfect position in bed.

Bzzzzzzt.

Bzzzzzt - bzzzzzt - bzzzzzt.

He should have known withholding the damn thing from Nagisa would have dire consequences. There’s probably a demonic curse that falls upon anyone who touches Nagisa’s things without permission.

BZZZZZT. Impossible- it’s getting even louder.

“Shut up!” Haru yells in its general direction, energized enough by his annoyance to sit up and get the phone out.

He taps the button on the bottom of the screen, lighting it up to the time, which reads 13:27, and displays that Nagisa has twenty-eight messages. Haru tries to unlock the phone so he can turn the vibrate function off, accidentally brushing the latest notification.

Haru stares at the picture message that pops up. Why the hell would Nagisa be getting panty shots? Haru’s pretty sure Nagisa hasn’t been with a girl since that phase he went through in college. Then again, Nagisa is Nagisa... 

This is probably none of Haru’s business. He should just put the phone away and pretend he never saw anything. 

Or, he could use this as leverage to get Nagisa to stop pestering him about Makoto. Yeah, that one sounds better. Haru checks to see who the message is from, but all it says is “<3<3big booty babe!!!!<3<3.”

If Nagisa’s cheating on Rei, Haru might actually have to kill him. 

Now that there’s no chance of his nap happening, Haru thinks it might be a good time to get a haircut.

 

 

Rei has the rice and curry warming on the stove and is currently tossing together a salad when the doorbell rings. Mamiko squeals in excitement and rushes toward the door, abandoning her colouring book on the coffee table in the living room. 

“Wait, Ma-chan,” Rei calls to her, striding over to scoop her up and let Makoto in.

Makoto smiles wide as soon as the door opens. “Hi! Is this Mamiko-chan?”

Mamiko stares up at Makoto, eyes wide, clutching Rei’s shirt with one hand. 

“Sometimes she gets shy around new people,” Rei explains, “but she’ll warm up to you. Come in.”

Makoto steps out of his shoes and into the slippers Rei provides for him. “She’s adorable. This might sound kind of odd, since I know you adopted her, but she looks a lot like Nagisa-kun.”

Rei pushes his glasses up. “Mamiko’s biological mother is actually one of Nagisa’s cousins, so it makes perfect sense.” Rei loves that Nagisa and Mamiko share the same blonde waves and sakura-coloured eyes. They are the two most beautiful people he’s ever laid eyes on.

Makoto seems confused. “Oh. From how he put it, I thought it was some random teenager in trouble.”

Rei isn’t sure what to say to that without having to go into great depth about Nagisa’s family issues, so he’s rather grateful that Mamiko decides to yell “Kyojin!!” at the top of her lungs, giggling and reaching toward Makoto.

Laughing, Makoto clasps both of her tiny hands in his. “I’m not a kyojin, I’m a Mako,” he says, a gentle expression on his face.

“Mako!” Mamiko repeats, trying to wriggle out of Rei’s arms. She’s antsier tonight than Nagisa after eating a huge bowl of sugar-frosted cereal. Which Rei remembers telling him to put back on the shelf at the grocery store, so however it ended up in their pantry is not his fault.

“I told you she’d warm up to you,” Rei says, holding Mamiko out to Makoto. “Would you take her while I finish preparing dinner?” If he doesn’t attend to the curry soon it’s going to burn, and that would be an absolute atrocity. Inviting somebody over for dinner and ending up having to order take-out. 

Makoto lifts Mamiko easily in one arm, eyes shining as he looks at her. Rei always did think Makoto was built for fatherhood. “Do you have any children, Makoto-senpai?”

“No,” he says, patiently letting Mamiko rub her hands all over his face. “It’s hard, when you’re gay. You two are lucky to have her.”

Rei spoons rice into a serving bowl. “I suppose that’s true.” He can feel the smile on his own face- he really is lucky to have Mamiko. And Nagisa as well, for that matter.

“I’ve also never been in a relationship with anyone long enough to consider having kids,” Makoto says, a hint of regret in his voice. “Not like you two, who’ve been together since high-school.”

Rei pauses in the middle of setting the table, training his eyes on a napkin. If he’d had more time, he could have folded them into cranes. “About that...we haven’t actually-”

“I want cake,” Mamiko interrupts. 

“We’re not having cake, beautiful, we’re having rice.” Plus Nagisa had probably fed her cake for breakfast, after Rei left for work. 

Mamiko buries her face in Makoto’s shirt. “No wice! I hate it.”

“Well,” Rei sighs, muttering more to himself than anyone, “You didn’t hate it on Monday.”

Makoto pats Mamiko’s hair, giving Rei a scrutinizing look despite his grin. “What were you saying before, Rei-kun?”

“I was saying,” Rei answers, taking Mamiko from him and putting her in her chair, “that Nagisa and I haven’t actually been together since high-school.”

Makoto looks as though he’s discovered his life is a lie. “But you guys were practically sewn together back then!”

“It doesn’t always last,” Rei says. “Relationships are hard work, Makoto-senpai. A great deal of investment and risk-taking is involved.”

Rei motions for Makoto to sit down, setting Mamiko’s food in front of her. The little turtle-shaped plate Nagisa bought for her really is clever. It has a matching bowl that sits on top of it for storage, meant to look like the turtle’s shell. The plate is divided into sections, which is good, because lately Mamiko has decided that her food can’t be touching. She had actually started crying yesterday when Rei had been unable to pick all of the mushrooms out of her mushroom soup.

“Investment?” Makoto asks, taking his seat. He looks baffled. Faintly bored.

“I work at an investment company,” Rei says hurriedly, “but don’t worry; I have an anecdote prepared for you.”

“You have an anecdote? For me?” He might sound a little sarcastic, but Rei has never been very skilled at discerning different forms of verbal irony, so he can’t be sure. Makoto’s sarcasm always had been much gentler compared to Haruka-senpai’s, too, which didn’t help.

Rei turns his thoughts back to anecdotes- he has learned over the years that other people prefer learning through stories and examples rather than dry theory. Even though theory is faster. 

“Yes. When you said you wanted to talk about Haruka-senpai, I thought it might be best if I was ready with some relationship advice.” He pushes his glasses back up- why are they forever slipping off? Is his nose too small or something? “And to that effect, I have a series of examples about Nagisa-kun and I that I’m willing to share.” No, no, he’s measured it multiple times- there’s nothing wrong with the size of his nose. Although it does turn up a bit too much at the tip to be entirely beautiful, but he can’t fix that short of plastic surgery, which would be completely ridiculous.  
Makoto stares down at his plate, poking at his rice with his chopsticks. This isn’t the reaction Rei was expecting; at work he’s actually paid to give people advice. He’s come so far since high-school.

“I’m not sure that I want to start a relationship with Haru,” Makoto says after a while. He then takes a deep breath, looking at Rei. “I’m terrified he’s going to hurt me again. I don’t want to let him in.”

Rei can’t help but empathize. He knows how Makoto’s feeling. But at the same time, he can’t stamp out the twinge of irritation he feels at Makoto’s cowardice. Rei has never understood “giving up” or “running away.” Call him stubborn. Call him an idiot. Everybody else does, at some point.

“That’s what I mean about investments and risks.” Now is a good time to use one of those anecdotes.

 

 

Haru hears Nagisa before he sees him, chattering at someone loud enough to be heard over the whuurrrr of the blow-drier. The salon smells acrid, like hair dye, and the bright lights around the mirrors make Haru’s eyes hurt. Still, he’s determined. 

The girl at the desk is chewing bubble gum and looking bored, but her bubble pops when she sees Haru. “Have an appointment?” she asks, a touch too enthusiastically for Haru’s liking. He has a feeling he’s not going to like a single person in here.

“No.”

“That’s fine, I can make one for you right now, if you like.” She’s twisting a piece of her hair around her finger and staring at his belt area instead of his face.

“Yes, with Hazuki Nagisa.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Oooh,” she coos, “are you one of his friends?” The way she says the word “friends” is not encouraging.

 _Yes, I’m gay, at least for the one person I’m interested in, so why don’t you take your gum and fuck off?_

He settles for saying “yes” with about as much disinterest as he can summon.

“Nagisa-kun,” she calls, high-pitched and annoying, “your hot friend is here!”

“Which one?” Nagisa’s voice yells back.

“Blue eyes, black hair, doesn’t smile!”

The next second Nagisa’s bounding around the corner in a flash of pink and gold. “Haru-chaaaaaaan!”

Haru wishes Nagisa would remember he’s not a 5’5 boy lolita anymore and stop it with his infamous flying hugs, but it’s in vain. They almost topple. Almost.

“I’ve been bugging you for yeeeeears to come and visit me and you are, you’re finally visiting and oh my god Haru-chan I’m going to make you look fucking fab-u-lous,” he sings, leaning on Haru’s shoulder.

Time to nip this in the bud. “Who’s big booty babe?”

Nagisa stares at him for a second before narrowing his eyes. “Haru-chan...are you high?”

What? “No. Who’s big booty babe?”

“Is this some kind of dare or something? ‘Cause that would make a lot of sense.”

Haru sighs, exasperated. It’s easier just to show him. He pulls out the phone, ignoring Nagisa’s affronted gasp and “I-can’t-believe-you-had-it-this-whole-time-you-dick” and opens the picture message, holding it up for Nagisa.

Nagisa takes a moment to process what he’s seeing, and then breaks out in peals of laughter so loud that half of the people in the salon turn towards them. 

“OH MY GOD, HARU!” Nagisa holds his sides, tears starting to form at the corners of his eyes. “THAT’S A PICTURE OF REI!”

Haru does not believe that for a second. He studies the photo again. Wait...oh. Oh GOD. He turns off the phone as quickly as possible. And he’s not flushing with embarrassment. Definitely not.

“Rei-chan is my big booty babe,” Nagisa giggles, finally catching his breath. “Did you think I was cheating?”

Haru takes a sudden interested in the display of over-priced hairsprays to his left. Fifty percent off and it still costs three thousand yen.

“You totally did! Aw, it’s sweet how protective you got of Rei-chan.” Haru can feel Nagisa’s eyes on him, reading him. “Can you maybe understand now how I felt when I saw you with all those bruises? I was worried, Haru-chan.” Thank god he’s lowered his voice.

Haru hadn’t even thought of that. “I guess,” he admits, mostly because Nagisa will pester him until he does, and a little because yeah, maybe he has been kind of a colossal ass about it.

“Well, now that you’re here,” Nagisa wheedles, “I could trim your bangs for you. You shouldn’t let them cover up your eyes like that. It’s a sin.”

“I guess,” Haru relents, again. He still has some questions he might ask Nagisa. Eventually. If he can work up the nerve.

Nagisa nearly explodes. “YES!!!! Come on, I’ll wash your hair first! Naomi-chan,” he says, turning to the receptionist, “Can you be a gem and get someone to cover my next appointment? I’m not gonna do it.” So professional.

He makes Haru sit in a chair and lean back into the sink. Haru stares at Nagisa’s pale wrists as he rolls his sleeves up, squirting shampoo into his palm. Haru barely even notices the puckered red scars anymore. Then again, Nagisa’s gotten very good at hiding them. 

Haru decides that having his hair washed is one of the few forms of physical contact he can stand from another human (unless it’s Makoto.) Likely because it’s not a stranger doing it, and also because it involves water. It’s actually relaxing, to a degree. If only Nagisa would shut up.

“So then he was being a total dick and like, stormed out in the middle of breakfast and honestly, Haru-chan, I don’t know what the fuck happened to him since high-school but now he’s a total asswaffle-”

Oh. He’s talking about Makoto. Makoto. Haru inhales deeply, readying his question. “Nagisa?”

Nagisa keeps talking about asswaffles for a moment before he notices Haru has spoken. “Yeah?”

“How do you get Rei to send you sexy photos like that?”

Nagisa’s eyes grow impossibly large. “Are you seriously asking what I think you’re asking?”

Haru just looks at him. He doesn’t have time for games.

“I sent him one first.” Nagisa dries his hands on his zebra-print apron and takes out his new phone, which is as pink as the last one, and shoves it in Haru’s face. Haru will spend the rest of his life trying to unsee the image that hovers before his eyes. But he can’t look away.

“How did you get that angle?”

“Oh god, I had to take like fifty pictures before I got a good one. I had it on a timer, but most of them turned out blurry.” He puffs out his cheeks. “Do you know how hard it is to keep it up for that many shots?”

Haru’s slightly intrigued. If anyone would be willing to explain seduction techniques to him, it’s Nagisa. He’s so straightforward about it, too. Not at all shy. Which in most situations is both alarming and painfully awkward, but right now, it’s nice.

Haru lets Nagisa towel off his hair before asking the next question. “What else do you do for him?”

Nagisa’s giving him a hard stare, but he looks pensive. He lowers his voice. “Are you trying to seduce Mako-chan?”

Haru focuses on a glass canister full of blue liquid and a variety of combs. It kind of reminds him of a lava lamp. Haru loves lava lamps.

Nagisa sucks air through his teeth. “If it’s Mako-chan, I recommend a strip tease.”

“A strip tease...” Haru could do that.

“Do you need me to show you how it’s done?” Nagisa’s voice is coy. “Or can you find it out? I’ve seen your massive porn collection.”

Haru still regrets the day Nagisa had figured that one out. He should have known better than to ever let the snoopy brat touch his laptop. Unfortunately, Haru didn’t watch the sort of porn that featured strip teases.

“I know where to go to find out,” he answers dryly, watching Nagisa pick up a pair of scissors and a comb.

“Well, if your dance isn’t great, your hair will be,” he mutters, advancing on Haru with a gleam in his eye.

 

 

Makoto stands in the living room, waiting for Rei to finish putting Mamiko in bed. His story had been interrupted by the toddler throwing her plate onto the floor. 

The room is oddly comforting to Makoto- a balance between Nagisa’s homey mess and Rei’s eye for aesthetics. It’s all done in warm browns and greens, clean, but with a hint of skewed disorganization that Makoto assumes can only come from having a small child- and a Nagisa- in the house.

He takes a step toward the bookshelf and steps on a crayon. Oops. Most of the books appear to be Rei’s; university textbooks, how-to manuals, classic Japanese literature; interspersed are mangas and trashy romance novels that must belong to Nagisa. How like them, Makoto thinks, smiling to himself. 

One of the romances has several post-its sticking out of it. Curious, Makoto tugs the book off the shelf. “Rusty Nailed,” it says, with a gaudy picture of a man pinning a woman up against a ladder. Makoto opens it to one of the marked pages. Nagisa has scribbled jokes and comments all over the page with sparkly purple gel-pen. Most of them are directed at Rei. 

One of them is a small drawing of a butterfly wearing glasses, the speech bubble next to it reading “This is ridiculous. I should be working.” Makoto laughs. He thinks Rei and Nagisa are perfect for one another; he can’t imagine them ever having broken up. It must have been over some silly puppy fight, for a week or two, and then they got back together. Makoto puts the book back on the shelf and glances around at the photos on the wall. 

Clearly, most of the photography was done by Nagisa. Rei always looks caught off guard, frowning in the middle of turning toward the camera. There are a few selfies of Nagisa and Mamiko together- Makoto can really see the resemblance between them now- and many, many pictures of Mamiko on her own. These ones are more professionally done. Likely by Rei, if the photography manuals on the bookshelf are any indication.

Then there’s the wedding photo. Rei is wearing a dark suit with a pink tie that matches Nagisa’s eyes; Nagisa is in a white one, with a lavender tie. Makoto hadn’t noticed before, but he can see from the picture that Nagisa has grown. His head rests easily on Rei’s shoulder as he looks up at him with wide eyes. Rei catches his gaze adoringly, clasping Nagisa’s hand. Mountains and startlingly bright turquoise water are visible in the background. They must have gotten married in Jasper or Banff. 

When Makoto thinks back on the picture later, after he’s gone home to bed, he’ll admit that the loving innocence it exuded may have made Rei’s story even harder to swallow.

“She’s finally asleep,” Rei says, slipping into the room like a shadow.

“That didn’t take too long,” Makoto quickly supplies, since Rei’s clearly worried about being a poor host.

“Some nights it takes longer than others,” Rei says, fixing his glasses, “but she was tired out from the excitement of company. Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Makoto gestures at the wall behind him. “That’s a beautiful picture.”

Rei practically beams. “It’s my favourite. Nagisa wouldn’t stand still and ended up ruining most of the other ones.” 

Makoto smiles at the mental image. “How long ago did you say you went?”

“Four years ago, after I graduated university,” Rei says. “It may not have been a good financial investment, but it was an excellent investment in our relationship.”

Makoto would laugh at how cheesy that is if Rei hadn’t said it so earnestly. “Is that what you were talking about before?”

“Yes, partly,” Rei answers. “But I also wanted to mention the time we went on hiatus. I think parts of it might be relevant to the situation you find yourself in with Haruka-senpai.” 

“You should sit down.”

Makoto does as Rei suggests, reading the sudden serious atmosphere in the room. “What happened?”

Rei takes a moment before beginning. “I suppose it started when in our third year of high school, Nagisa’s parents caught us making love.”

“Oh. That’s...awkward.”

“Very,” Rei nods. “It turns out that his parents were less accepting of Nagisa’s sexuality than we’d hoped.”

“I wouldn’t think that would matter much to him.” Makoto definitely would have guessed that Rei’s parents would be the ones with issues, not Nagisa’s.

Rei shakes his head. “He pretended it didn’t. He kept dating me, for a while. But things were different for us after that. He was constantly fighting with his family; he was always upset with them, and himself, and perhaps even me. I could feel the distance growing between us. Right before university, we broke up.” Rei sounds like he’s reading the index page of a textbook. 

“I can’t even imagine that.” Makoto isn’t sure what else to say.

“I don’t like thinking about it, either. We went to different schools, and we saw each other less and less. I was fine,” Rei says, staring at his hands, “but Nagisa was a mess. He became incredibly promiscuous.”

Makoto highly doubts that Rei was as fine as he says he was. “How could he do that to you?”

Rei looks up, surprised. “He’s beautiful, Makoto-senpai, and charismatic. It wasn’t hard for him to get women, especially after his growth spurt, and furthermore-”

“That’s not what I meant! It was rhetorical.” And Nagisa with women? What the hell kind of alternate universe had he just entered?

“Right,” Rei says. “Anyway, he also began drinking heavily and doing drugs.”

“Drugs?” Makoto asks, recalling the weed he barely remembers smoking yesterday.

Rei meets Makoto’s gaze. “Hard drugs. Ecstasy and cocaine were his favourites, if I’m being precise. I would get calls and texts from him in the middle of the night, but they never went anywhere. He would always lie to me and pretend he was having fun.”

“That,” Makoto swallows, “that’s terrible, Rei.”

A hard look passes over Rei’s face as he continues. “Then he started cutting himself.”

Makoto battles the sense of shame and guilt he feels for not keeping in contact all these years. He tries to recall what Nagisa’s wrists looks like and realizes that he’s always been wearing a sweater. Imagining adorable, energetic Nagisa falling into a spiral of drugs and partying is hard enough, even though Makoto entirely understands that, of all things, but cutting? 

Nagisa in the small hours of the morning, so strung out he can’t think straight, eyes dilated and breathing heavy, pressing a kitchen knife against his wrist, poking at the vein, slicing it, until it gives and blood spurts out, trailing down his arm and dripping on the floor as he laughs at the fucked up absurdity of it all...god. It’s enough to give Makoto chills.

“How did you stand it? How could you stand watching him do that to himself? To you?”

“Because I love him,” Rei says simply, and Makoto knows it’s the truth. “I knew from the beginning that if I couldn’t be with Nagisa, I didn’t want to be with anyone. Gou always said I was being dramatic, but I wasn’t. I just know myself.”

“So what did you do?”

“I kept being his friend. I answered his calls. I invited him to things, even though he never came.” Rei’s gaze wanders off to a place that doesn’t exist inside the room. “One night, he showed up at my door. He was…” Rei’s voice breaks, and Makoto can see his eyes shining behind his glasses, dangerously close to tears.

“He’s okay now,” Makoto comforts.

“Yes. Yes.” Rei coughs. “He was a wreck when he came to me. But,” Rei smiles thinly, tasting the bittersweet memory, “he just sort of...stayed. He quit college and came to live with me. We’ve been together ever since then.” 

Makoto suspects there’s more to the story than that, but he doesn’t press. “I can’t imagine the patience and understanding that must have taken, Rei.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Rei says with no hesitation, “because no matter how much it hurt, what I have with him now is completely worth it. Just as I’d dive into that swimming pool a thousand times over without knowing how to swim.” He’s smiling now.

Makoto smiles back. “You did that for him, didn’t you.” It’s not really a question.

“Entirely.” Rei looks triumphant. “And that is precisely what I mean about investments and risks. Does it make sense?”

“You know,” Makoto says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think it actually kinda does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Mamiko calls Makoto a "kyojin," she's basically calling him a monster. I guess she takes after Nagisa in her love of the horrific and occult :)
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	11. Hidemind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re in so much trouble when I get over there,” he growls. 
> 
> Haru can hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't listened to "Hidemind" by OLDCODEX yet, now would be the time to do it.

Now that that he’s found some clarity, Makoto doesn’t have much trouble writing the new song. All he has to do is channel his feelings for Haru properly, and he has it written in less than half an hour. Still, he’s taken so long to get it done that he’s worried Sousuke and Kisumi won’t have enough time to rehearse it.

“Wow,” Kisumi breathes.

“We can work with this,” Sousuke says, staring at the piece of paper.

“Yeah. Totally.” They’re all seated at the counter-top island that separates the kitchen from the living-room. 

Makoto smiles, flattered. “I was thinking the tone should be a little more subdued than our usual stuff.” He hums a bit of the melody he had in mind.

“Sounds good to me,” Kisumi says.

Sousuke looks over the moon about something. “Matsuoka’s gonna be there to hear this.”

“Which one?” Makoto teases. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that one, Gou is possibly going to be their agent, and two, that Rin is gay and interested in Sousuke. Such a small world.

“Gou-san,” Sousuke answers, “and she’s gonna be impressed.”

Makoto’s smile broadens. “It’ll be nice to see her again. Is Rin coming?”

“Nah, he says he has to work.”

“That’s okay,” Makoto says, “then he can’t make fun of my English pronunciation.”

“Maybe he’s lying because he doesn’t want to see you,” Kisumi taunts, plucking an apple from the bowl on the counter and spinning it, balancing it on his index finger. A leftover habit from his college days as a basketball player.

Sousuke snorts. “Trust me, that’s not it. We’ve been sexting for days.”

Makoto shudders. It’s weird to think about Rin like that. Especially if he’s still as hardcore and competitive as Makoto remembers.

“I’ve never felt so out of place being straight,” Kisumi sighs dramatically. “What are your plans after the show, Makoto-kun?”

“I don’t know,” Makoto says. And he doesn’t. Rei had informed him that he was going to be there again, along with Nagisa and Haru. Considering the pattern of the last two weeks, Makoto is reasonably certain he could end up back at Haru’s place, if he wants to. Does he want to? His dick is telling him that yes, he does, but the rest of him is pretty apprehensive about the whole situation. Another round of kinky sex with Haru won’t help his current emotional state. 

He shouldn’t have let the first two times happen.

“Why don’t we go clubbing or something after?” Kisumi asks.

“Yeah, sure.”

“We should probably get practicing pretty soon, eh?” Sousuke says. “We have a lot of work to do if this is gonna be ready for tomorrow night.”

 

 

Haru will never admit it to Nagisa, but his hair does look fabulous. Having it out of his face is strange; he’s had the same bangs forever. It looks great, but Haru feels naked without the fringe of hair keeping the world from peering directly into his eyes.

This isn’t about the world, though. Haru doesn’t care about that. This is about Makoto, who had once casually informed Haru that his eyes were the same beautiful colour as the sky. Everyone always tells Haru his eyes match the ocean, probably because they assume he will be ecstatic at being compared to such a gorgeous body of water.

Makoto had been afraid of the ocean since childhood. He was scared of swimming when they were first learning; backstroke was what allowed him to break through all that, pumping through the smooth water with his face turned up towards the sun. Haru loves that Makoto thinks his eyes look like the sky. Remembering makes his heart beat as fast as it did the day he’d said it.

Haru wants to peer into the deep jungle of Makoto’s eyes, and to have him stare back. He wishes he could tell Makoto everything through just his gaze. So yes, he reluctantly agrees that the haircut looks good on him.

Perhaps Haru can’t get every emotion across with his words, or even his eyes, but he’s determined to do it somehow- through the urgency of his kiss, the desperation in the way he moves his hips to match Makoto’s rhythm, the way he explores every crevice of Makoto’s body, as if he can understand him through physical contact alone. Yes, Haru wants his hands free this time, so he can run them all over Makoto, memorizing the way his skin feels.

Imagining sex with Makoto heats Haru up in ways he’s never experienced before. He’s certainly never felt this way from watching porn. It’s as though every bruise on his body is still hot with the pressure of Makoto’s kiss, searing into him.

He thinks faintly of taking care of himself in the bathroom, but decides against it. It’ll be so much better if he waits until the real thing. Haru focuses his attention on the computer screen in front of him.

 

From: hazuki nagisa

Subject: STRIPPING SONGS, BIATCH !!!!!

haaaiii haru-chan,

thought u might need some inspiration ;)

i usually strip to butterfly by jason mraz for rei-chan. its my fav even tho its in english. he gets it and it makes him smile. pretty sure mako-chan knows english cuz he sings it sometimes, righttt?  
or growl by exo if im feeling super baddd. i put a list of links to songs that might work for u. lemme know if u need more helpp :) :) 

good luck u slut! ;)

Attached File: 24 KB

Haru thinks the universe may be about to implode, because Nagisa’s just given him another good piece of advice. Haru can use music to convey the way he feels about Makoto. It will be perfect, because Makoto’s a singer. Easy.

Scrolling quickly through the list, Haru passes over everything Nagisa suggested. Haru wants to pick the song himself, anyway, to make it more meaningful. They lyrics and music have to be exactly right in order to get his emotions across. 

Again, Nagisa’s right; Haru should be able to expand his search to other languages. He’s fairly sure Makoto knows English and Korean, so he can look there, too, with the help of an internet translator, of course. 

Haru ends up exploring, headphones in although he lives alone, until well past four in the morning. He calls in sick.

 

 

The moment he steps out on stage, Makoto spots Haru, sitting in the front, primly, hands folded in his lap. Something about him looks different. Makoto feels butterflies forming in his stomach under Haru’s intense gaze. He forces them away- butterflies on stage are not a good thing. 

Nagisa waves at him enthusiastically and Rei gives him a thumbs up, making a faint smile tug at his lips.

As soon as the spotlight hits him he can no longer see the crowd, but he can still feel Haru’s eyes on him as he sings through their regular set. He’s more nervous about Haru than he is about having a representative from a major record label watching his performance. Yes, he knows how pathetic that is. 

That’s why he can’t let “Haru” happen again. He’s made his choice.

By the end of the evening, Makoto’s throat is dry and sore from barking lyrics out; he hardly notices because of the rush of adrenaline pumping through his system. He smiles back at Sousuke, who’s adjusting the strap on his guitar. Sousuke nods.

“Okay! You guys have been great tonight, so we’re gonna play a new one for you. No other ears have heard it yet. What do you think of that?” Makoto practically has to yell into the mic to be heard over the loud cheering that bombards him before he’s even finished talking. He’s pretty sure he can hear Nagisa cat calling, but there are too many voices all at once to be sure.

He’s nervous about this one. It’s so different from what they’ve done previously.

He cues the pre-recorded violin music, watching Kisumi and Sousuke ready themselves out of the corner of his eye.

He starts off singing more slowly, softly, relaxing his voice, letting the the chill of the violin envelop him and Kisumi’s rhythmic beat envelop him.

 

Run away　Hide mind  
Replace　Hide mind

 

Makoto forgets everything around him, embracing the passion in his own lyrics. He’s not even aware that his eyes are fixed in Haru’s direction.

 

With envy and betrayal　I might hurt someone  
I don't even care　Neither does someone  
Do you know how hard it is to know each other  
I can't say

 

Kisumi picks up the beat, intensifying the tone. Makoto feeds off of it, letting it fill him with emotion, letting it vibrate through him and releasing it in his voice. He wrote these lyrics for Haru- he wants to accept his feelings with this song; all the pain and longing. He wants Haru to understand.

 

Hey friend, how you doing?  
Hey friend, can you see me?  
Hey friend, I wanna talk, just talk with you

Run away　Hide mind  
Replace　Hide mind

Why I'm here today?

 

Makoto completely loses track of time, space, everything. When the last note dies out, he’s completely exhausted. His head hurts, his throat hurts, his heart hurts. He wants to go straight to bed and sleep for a week. 

The roar of the crowd is overpowering. Somewhere, through the haze, Makoto hears his name. He feels a firm hand on his shoulder, tugging him off stage, to the dressing room, to shelter.

“Mako. Hey. You okay?” Sousuke’s staring at him, concern in his eyes.

“I’m good, yeah.” He takes a deep breath, the room steadying. “That was weird,” he adds, trying to laugh it off, but his voice is raw and it shakes.

There’s a knock on the backstage door.

“I’ll get it,” Sousuke murmurs, heading toward it and opening it a crack. “Nanase.”

Makoto’s head snaps toward the door. Haru’s there, panting slightly, eyes shining with worry. “Is Makoto okay?” he asks Sousuke.

“He’s fine,” Sousuke’s voice grates out; hard, metallic. “Just tired.”

“Can I see him?” There’s a hint of challenge in his words.

Makoto intervenes before the tension between them gets any worse. “Let him in, Sou.”

Haru hurries across the room on long legs. He has on magenta skinny jeans that showcase all the right parts. 

“Are you okay?” Haru’s looking straight up at him. God, were his eyes always this blue? This wide? This expressive? Makoto notices that Haru’s bangs are swept back, leaving his face open, vulnerable; Haru’s lying against the sheets, sweat-soaked hair brushed back, the light in his eyes dancing as he cries Makoto’s name- 

“No.”

Haru stares at him.

“No,” he manages, voice cracking. “We can’t- I can’t DO this. Anymore. I can’t be with you, Haru. You should go.”

Haru doesn’t look away for a long time. Makoto has absolutely no idea what he’s thinking, and it makes him uncomfortable. Makoto is the one who breaks eye contact first, turning toward the water cooler.

He hears Sousuke escorting Haru toward the door with a gruff “come on, buddy.” Makoto can’t stand to watch Haru go, so he doesn’t look.

Kisumi is more than accommodating afterwards when Makoto tells him he doesn’t feel like going out.

“You look kinda pale, Makoto-kun,” he says. “You should get some rest.”

Sousuke watches Makoto from the background, arms crossed, expression stoic.

“I am pretty tired,” Makoto agrees. “I’m gonna head home early. Thanks guys.”

Makoto goes to bed as soon as he gets home, stripping his clothes and crawling under the comforter. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the sense of loss and panic he feels bubbling under his ribcage. He closes and eyes and forces his body to sleep.

 

 

Haru somehow manages to escape the venue without Nagisa or Rei spotting him. He couldn’t handle talking to either one of them right now. He decides to walk home, taking the time to calm himself and collect his thoughts. Makoto’s last song burns through his mind again and again, branding itself into his psyche. 

 

Hey friend, can you see me?  
Hey friend, I wanna talk, just talk with you

 

Everything about Makoto is exactly what Haru wants. His black jeans and white shirt, embellished by the leather cords around his neck. The way he squeezes his eyes closed when he gets to the chorus. The anguish lacing his voice. Haru is in love with every part of him.

He’s worried. Makoto had not been his usual self at the end of the show; Haru could tell that even after having been apart from him so long. Something had been horribly wrong.

It takes Haru almost an hour to walk back to his apartment, “hidemind” rattling around in his head for the duration. Haru feels a strange buzz. It’s past midnight, but he isn’t tired, probably because he’d taken the day off and slept until two in the afternoon.

Haru makes himself a meal, head full of Makoto. He does the dishes, head still full of Makoto. After cleaning his entire apartment, despite having straightened it earlier in anticipation of sex, Haru’s entire body feels like it’s full of Makoto. He drinks two beers. He needs to relax.

At two thirty, Haru draws himself a bath. He doesn’t bother to put his clothes in the hamper, letting them drop to the floor at the edge of the tub before stepping into water so hot that it makes his skin prickle.

He closes his eyes and soaks. Water...the water is too warm, engulfing his body in liquid heat. It’s nothing compared to the fire Makoto spreads across his skin with his touch, his kiss. Haru’s light-headed, from the temperature, from his arousal, from thoughts of Makoto. The water feels like gentle hands running across his thighs, his chest, his shoulders.

Haru lets his hands trail down his belly into the water, softly grazing against his thighs, along his hipbone, his cock, squeezing it, making it swell. Haru’s already sweating and panting for breath. The heat is too much.

The alcohol and steam are fogging his thought process.

 

Hey friend, can you see me?

 

Suddenly Haru has to hear Makoto’s voice. He gets to his knees, erection rubbing against the porcelain of the bath as he leans over to retrieve his phone from his pants.

Outgoing Message (3:04): what’s Makoto’s number?

This is the first time he’s ever been thankful that Nagisa’s such a fast texter. Haru furiously types in the number Nagisa supplies, ignoring the ‘where the fuck did U go?” attached to it, and presses the call button. It rings three, four times, Haru’s heart tightening with each keen. He can’t breathe.

Then a groggy voice picks up. “ ‘ello?”

The tightness leaves Haru’s chest in an instant. He leans back in the water, pressing the phone to his ear with one hand, the other snaking its way back down to his neglected cock.

Makoto clears his voice on the other end. “Hello? What’s wrong?”

Of course that’s the first thing that would pop into Makoto’s head, getting a random call in the middle of the night. That something must be wrong. Haru loves the way he cares so much. He strokes himself, concentrating on Makoto’s rough voice.

“Is somebody there?”

“Makoto.” Haru doesn’t want him to hang up.

“Who is this?”

“Haru.”

“Haru? What…” Makoto sounds confused. “Why are you calling? Is everything okay?” 

The note of urgency and concern in Makoto’s voice makes something snap in Haru, heat pooling in his stomach as he thumbs his own slit, pretending Makoto’s doing it, touching him with heavy hands. Haru aches deep inside as he’s united with the one thing that’s been missing in his life for a decade- having Makoto genuinely care about him.

“Yes. I’m fine,” is all Haru’s able to say without gasping, his toes curling as he begins stroking in earnest. He needs to get off listening to Makoto’s voice.

“Why are you calling so late?”

“I...I-” This time Haru can’t stop the tremor in his voice. He clamps down on his bottom lip. He stops pumping his cock for a moment to pinch and play with his nipple, imagining Makoto’s teeth on him.

Makoto’s voice steadies as he begins to wake up. “You’re not upset about earlier, are you?” 

He sounds surprised, curious, maybe even a touch delighted. Delighted? Either way, his voice sounds like molasses over sandpaper, raspy and smooth at the same time, concentrated on Haru’s well-being. Haru loves it. It turns him on.

“Not,” Haru gasps, “upset.” He props one leg up against the faucet and moves his hand down, teasing his own entrance, pushing two fingers in at once, imagining it’s Makoto. He needs it so bad that he hardly registers the initial sting.

“Then what the hell is wrong? You sound weird.”

The slight edge of irritation makes Makoto’s voice stronger, sexier. Haru crooks his fingers, his hips twitching, thinking of Makoto issuing commands to him in that voice. He groans, tremulous.

Makoto is silent for a few seconds. “H-Haru, what are you doing?”

“Hahh, Makoto,” Haru grunts, pressing up harder and faster against his sweet spot.

This time Makoto releases a soft groan. “Are you seriously jacking off right now?”

Haru slips in a third finger, feeling full but not nearly full enough, Makoto’s noise spurring him on. 

“Y-yes...yes, Makoto, yes!” he doesn’t care how lusty the sound is.

He hears rustling and movement from Makoto’s end. Makoto’s voice is an urgent, hoarse whisper when he next speaks. “Where are you?”

Haru moans, feeling his release build. “The bath.”

“At home?”

“Y-yes.” His thighs are trembling. He hasn’t touched himself this way in days.

“Stay there. I’m coming over.” This time Makoto’s words are coated with desire, and Haru cries his name into the receiver as he comes. 

He can hear Makoto’s heavy breathing as he drifts down from his climax.

“You’re in so much trouble when I get over there,” he growls. 

Haru can hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My roommate SecretlyInLove has informed me that I'm "a horrible human being" and "a dick" for, and I quote, "breaking Nagisa" in the last chapter. I'm sorry! I'm a total piece of human garbage. 
> 
> Strip teases, bondage, and breakfast in the next chapter.
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	12. Bad Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was amazing,” Makoto pants.
> 
> “I know,” Haru says, looking into his eyes. “You were smiling the entire time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haru's stripping to this song.
> 
> If you like K-pop then we can be best friends, okay? Okay.

Makoto doesn’t stop to think about the consequences of his actions. Not this time. He knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s past giving a fuck.

Haru. Haru had called him. Since when did Haru call people? When did Haru make the effort to reach out? The call itself had made Makoto’s heart beat faster, because it meant that Haru wanted him, to speak to him, was actually trying. 

And that moaning. Jesus Christ. Makoto feels shell shocked from thinking about it. Haru had been masturbating. On the phone. Saying Makoto’s name. The memory is so raw, so fresh, sending heat straight to his cock. 

So fuck it. Fuck it all.

Makoto dresses with as much speed as possible, putting on something clean, form-fitting. Snug jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt that’s maybe a size smaller than he should really be wearing. Not that it matters, because he doesn’t plan on wearing it long. 

Makoto shoves his glasses on his face, because it’s late and putting in contacts would waste valuable minutes.

Wallet, keys, does he need anything else? Makoto briefly considers bringing his box of toys, but it would be a pain to carry around. Besides that, he’s done pretending this is a game.

Makoto leaves his room and pads quietly toward the door. He can see the pale glow of the t.v. filtering down the hallway; he hears muted voices from whatever program is on. He wonders if Kisumi fell asleep on the couch, like he’s prone to.

“-were so aggressive,” he hears Sousuke murmur as he rounds the corner.

“Get used to it,” a faintly familiar voice answers. Then he hears the unmistakable sounds of kissing, half drowned out by the pineapple juice commercial in the background.

Makoto’s glances over the back of the couch; Sousuke’s on his back, a burgundy-haired man lying on top of him. They’re making out like horny teenagers. It would be nice of Makoto to leave them be, and he’s got his own urgent business to take care of, but it’s been so long, after all. And the outfit the guy is wearing...

“I didn’t know you were so kinky, Rin,” Makoto says, laughing at how fast Rin sits up, still straddling Sousuke, whipping his head around. His expression is stunned for a moment, then recognition floods his face with a grin.

“I just got off work, you ass,” he says, standing up and nearly kneeing Sousuke in the crotch. He’s wearing a dark blue police uniform, the buttons at the collar undone, his hair sticking up all over. “Man, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” Makoto says, stepping forward into Rin’s one-armed hug. He pretends he can’t tell Rin has a boner. Not awkward at all. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it was you!”

“He practically shit his pants,” Sousuke says from the couch, arms behind his head. He looks happier than Makoto’s seen him in a while.

“I was surprised,” Makoto tries to defend himself, “I didn’t even know Rin was gay.”

“Bi,” Rin shrugs. “Depends on the person I guess. But I wasn’t surprised to hear about you. At all.”

Makoto chuckles. “I was that obvious, huh?”

“Kinda,” Rin says. “All the Hello Kitty shit, y’know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking cats.” Ran had given him a Hello Kitty figurine for his birthday one freaking time, and nobody would let him live it down.

Rin barks a laugh. “She has a fucking pink bow, Makoto. Face it, you were born a queen.”

“Whatever,” Makoto scoffs, “you’re the one making out with a dude. And I’m nothing compared to Nagisa.”

Rin shakes his head, his smile slipping. His eyes soften as he looks Makoto over. “God, you’ve changed,” he says. Rin’s moods have always swung on a hinge.

“You haven’t,” Makoto replies quickly. He doesn’t like the “you used to be so sweet, what happened to you” look. It’s the same one his parents give him when he visits. “You’re exactly the same as the last time I saw you.”

“That’s because I work out,” Rin says, firmly poking Makoto’s chest.

“Hey! I’m no stranger to the gym,” Makoto says with a hint of indignation. “It’s not like I’ve let myself go since high school.” 

Sousuke snorts, sitting up. “You guys are hilarious. I would have loved to see you swim together back then.”

“Gross. That’s called pedophilia, Sousuke,” Rin says, tucking a thumb under his belt, “and it’s illegal.”

“What are you gonna do, arrest me?” Sousuke challenges, arching his eyebrow.

“I did bring my handcuffs,” Rin shoots back.

Wow. The sexual tension is palpable. Makoto backs toward the door. “I’m gonna go now. And, uh, I won’t be back ‘til tomorrow, so, go nuts.” 

As much as he’d love to spend more time talking with Rin, Makoto has been painfully aware this whole time that a naked, wet, horny Haru is waiting for him. He pulls on his shoes and leaves without hearing a reply. Makoto’s sure they weren’t listening to him anymore anyway. 

 

 

By the time Makoto manages to hail a cab and get to Haru’s place, forty minutes have passed since the phone call. He’s nervous, worried that Haru’s fallen asleep. Or changed his mind. Makoto’s own mind might need some convincing. He’s had enough time to cool off, and he’s having doubts.

He replays his last conversation with Haru. Wait, what doubts? It’s too late for misgivings. Makoto’s given up trying to resist when Haru so clearly wants to be fucked. Makoto should be elated, not anxious. 

Thinking of how Haru made the conscious decision to call him calms Makoto down. Besides, he had promised that Haru would be in big trouble, had he not? He plans on delivering. Makoto always tries his best to keep his promises. 

Makoto puts out his cigarette and knocks on Haru’s door, getting no answer. He cautiously tests the doorknob, finding that it’s unlocked; he goes inside.

Not one full second after entering the apartment, Makoto discovers that he’s the one who’s in trouble.

Haru’s in the living room, leaning, no- lounging- against the far wall. Makoto wonders how long he's been waiting like that. He'd expected to find him in the bath, still naked. Instead, Haru’s wearing a suit. A full suit, black, with a white dress shirt and blue tie. His hair is swept back out of his eyes, giving him an older, more sophisticated aura. Fuck. He’s gorgeous.

“Have a seat,” Haru says, pointing to a chair. Only now does Makoto notice that the rest of the living room furniture has been pushed up against the walls, creating an open space between Haru and the lonely chair.

Makoto’s intrigued. Haru’s the one giving orders now? Haru will be expressing his desires now, instead of just tolerating Makoto’s? The thought excites him. He crosses over to the chair as leisurely as possible. He sits. 

“I’ve never seen you in a real suit before,” he comments. If he has, he can’t remember, and it certainly can’t have looked this damn good.

“I bought it yesterday.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“This,” Haru says, pulling a small remote out of his pocket and tapping a button. Music starts to play.

Oh my god, Makoto thinks, his heart racing. This has to be a dream; it can’t be real.

Except Haru’s stepping forward, swaying his hips slightly to the rhythm as he undoes his suit jacket with painstaking care and lets it slip inch by inch off his shoulders. 

Makoto notices that the lyrics are a mixture of English and Korean. His knowledge of the latter is a little rusty, but he can piece the words together well enough.

 

I was too harsh that night  
I didn’t know you would really leave  
The words, “I’m sorry”, is too difficult for us that we take it to the end  
Because I’m ill-tempered  
We fight over stupid things numerous times a day  
You take off crying, I look around and think,  
"She’ll come back tomorrow. She’ll definitely call me first in the morning"

 

Haru moves smoothly with the music, as naturally as if he’s swimming. His slender fingers slip down his vest and start twisting the buttons open. His every movement is timed perfectly. He’s been practicing. 

Makoto catches Haru’s eyes, which are blazing blue, focused intently on him. And Makoto blushes. Honest-to-goodness blushes, hot and red, like he’s never seen a strip tease before. He can feel it spread across his face all the way to his ears.

 

Baby, I can’t, I’m so bad that I want to be good to you but it’s hard  
Every day and night I’m so mean cuz I’m so real so I’m sorry (but I can’t change)

 

Now Haru’s shed his vest, bobbing his head in time, his shoulders and hips undulating gracefully as he loosens his tie and flicks open the shirt buttons at his neck, exposing pale throat and delicate collarbone.

 

I’m the one you love but sorry I’m a bad boy  
Yes, just leave me, good bye, you’re a good girl  
The more time passes, the more you get to know me, only disappointments will remain but  
Baby don’t leave me, I know you still love me  
Why, yes, I’ll tell you the truth, I need you

 

Haru bites his bottom lip as he unbuckles his belt, maintaining his direct gaze at Makoto. He pulls the belt free, one loop at a time, and tugs his shirt out of his pants, drawing Makoto’s eyes to where the fabric stretches tightly around his arousal.

Makoto swallows, hard, feeling his own erection grow. His mouth is producing way too much saliva.

 

For you, who is always smiling next to me, I’m still too young  
With the excuse that I’m busy, I postpone our date  
Because I’m sorry, because I’m frustrated, I turn my head

 

Dancing a few steps closer to Makoto, Haru opens the front of his shirt. The tie swings against his chest, the blue of it making Haru’s eyes seem ridiculously bright. Haru rolls his hips, unfastening his pants, tugging them down a touch more with each gyration.

Makoto’s skin feels electrified. He bites down on his knuckle, trying to stifle his groan. Fuuuuuck.

After what seems like an hour, but in reality can’t be more than a minute, Haru’s pants are finally off, leaving him in a pair of thin white trunks, dress shirt open, slipping off one shoulder, tie hanging loosely around his neck.

 

Don’t say a thing  
I act tough but I’m not inside  
Don’t abandon me  
You know that there’s no one who will understand me like you, baby  
Oh you, come back to me

 

He dances for the rest of the song, beautifully, eyes never leaving Makoto’s as he comes closer and closer. As the music fades, Haru slides into Makoto’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck to entwine in his hair. 

“Makoto,” he whispers; they’re so nearly kissing that Makoto can feel Haru’s hot breath against his lips. It smells like mint toothpaste.

Makoto doesn’t know how to make his brain and mouth work. He can’t formulate an answer. He feels like his chest is on the verge of exploding from how fast his heart is beating. All he can do is place one hand on Haru’s hip, bringing the other up to cup Haru’s cheek.

“Makoto,” Haru says again, barely audible. “I love you.”

Makoto’s heart stops altogether. For a second, time freezes. He has no words, no way to describe how he feels. Something inside him pulses, sparking to life; with a shaky breath, his lips close the gap between him and Haru.

This kiss is the most moving, ground-shaking, life-altering thing that’s ever happened to Makoto. It’s slow at first, soft, loving; he feels Haru respond against him, breathing into his mouth, fisting his hair as the kiss grows deeper, more passionate. Makoto parts his lips, letting Haru’s tongue in, sweeping his own into Haru’s mouth with an intensity that’s somehow urgent and delicate at the same time.

Makoto doesn’t know how long they remain like that, running their hands over each other freely, exploring, no words complicating the perfection of the moment. 

Yes, Makoto’s been in love before, at least he thinks he has; he’s experienced loving kisses.

This one is a game changer. This kiss is beyond any he’s had before, because this one is with Haru. And Haru loves him. His chest jolts as understanding washes over him. He’s been waiting for this kiss since he was fourteen. Maybe even before that. Perhaps he’s been waiting for it forever, and now that he has it, he wants to cling to it, to let it go on and on, to have a thousand more just like it.

When they eventually pull apart, Makoto leaving his arms wrapped firmly around Haru’s hips, Haru’s still resting on his shoulders, Makoto stares deep into the sky of Haru’s shimmering eyes.

“I love you, too.” His voice trembles. “I always have.”

“I know,” Haru breathes. “I…”

Instead of finishing his sentence, Haru leans forward to gently flick his tongue against Makoto’s cheek. Makoto hadn’t realized there’d been a tear there. He swallows again, turning to catch Haru’s mouth in another heart-stopping kiss, this time slipping his hands underneath Haru’s shirt to stroke from the small of his back up to his shoulder blades. 

Haru’s hands slide down Makoto’s chest to brush the front of his jeans, nimble fingers making quick work of his button and zipper. Makoto’s glad he hadn’t put on a belt. Then Haru’s tugging at the waistband of his boxers, reaching inside to grasp his cock.

Refusing to let his lips leave Haru’s, Makoto reciprocates, pulling Haru’s trunks down and closing his hand over the revealed erection. He starts to pump, groaning in Haru’s mouth when he feels him return the action. 

The sensation of Haru’s warm body against him, the urgency in his kiss, his little sighs and gasps; it isn’t long before Makoto feels the heat of his impending release start to build. 

Haru pulls away, a gossamer thread of saliva still connecting their lips. His face is flushed with desire, pupils dilated, panting for breath.

“I need you inside me,” he says. Makoto can hear in his voice that it’s the plain, sincere truth. He hooks a hand under Haru’s ass, supporting him as he slips off of the chair onto his knees, laying Haru down on his back, pressing another kiss against his lips before stopping to yank his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the side.

He lowers his jeans and boxers to his knees, hard cock springing free, watching Haru shimmy out of his own underwear. 

“Lube?”

Haru reaches for his discarded suit jacket, pulling a tube out of the pocket. He makes as if to search through the other pocket, but evidently decides against it, handing the lube to Makoto. Makoto’s pretty sure he understands what Haru wants, but he has to make sure.

“No condom?”

Haru shakes his head. 

Makoto feels his face burn, twisting his hand around Haru’s tie and using it to pull him into another, heated kiss. Haru rises up to meet him, releasing a soft groan.

Makoto trials soft kisses down Haru’s body, loving the way he squirms beneath him, sensitive, hands digging into Makoto’s hair. Makoto sits back on his heels, aware of Haru’s eyes on him as he squirts lube onto his fingers. Gently pulling Haru’s legs apart, he lets one rest on his shoulder, running his first two fingers up the cleft of Haru’s ass, slicking it, rubbing his entrance.

Haru gasps, thighs already trembling, clear liquid beading on the tip of his dick. “Yes, Makoto,” he murmurs.

Makoto turns to kiss the smooth calf resting on his shoulder, his clean hand brushing Haru’s thigh. He pushes both fingers in at once, carefully, thrusting them and out, stretching Haru open until he can fit in a third. Haru’s breath hitches in his throat; he sighs and moans, catching his free leg in his hands and pulling his knee to his chest, allowing Makoto’s fingers to reach even deeper.

“I’m ready,” Haru informs him, voice unsteady.

Pulling his fingers out with a moist squelch, Makoto squirts another glob of lube onto his palm, coating his cock with a couple smooth strokes. Holding Haru’s hips, he lines up, thrusting inside him easily.

He feels Haru squeeze down around him, hot, slick, tight. A deep, throaty moan tears out of his own mouth as he bends forward to kiss Haru’s lips, using one hand to support himself against the carpet and finding Haru’s hand with the other. Their fingers twine together as he starts to move his hips into Haru’s waiting heat, tongues licking around each other in rhythm.

This isn’t just sex. This is something better.

They move together, skin touching as much skin as possible, Haru’s taste delicious in Makoto’s mouth, his sounds the most beautiful music in Makoto’s ears, until he feels Haru’s orgasm begin. Haru shakes beneath him, Makoto’s name tearing from his lips as hot come bursts between their chests, and Makoto follows him over the edge, emptying himself inside of Haru, sighing against his cheek.  
Makoto stays inside of Haru, hugging him close and rolling them both over so Haru can lie on top of him. Haru looks as sweat-drenched and starry-eyed as Makoto feels.

“That was amazing,” Makoto pants.

“I know,” Haru says, looking into his eyes. “You were smiling the entire time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a liar, I promised breakfast in this chapter. It'll be in the next one, though!!
> 
> Go here for the pineapple juice commercial joke. Lovely Rin/Mamoru art, and don't forget to watch the video included (it's hysterical.)
> 
>  
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	13. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto tests his binding, eyebrows raised. “A sneak attack, Haru? I thought you were better than this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too tired to edit this. It's 3 am. Go nuts.

Soft sunlight and the urge to pee wakes Haru up. He lies still for a moment, eyes closed, on the cusp of awareness. He feels something warm and heavy resting on his hip. Right.

He opens his eyes to find himself face to face with Makoto, still sound asleep, breathing so deeply it’s nearly a snore, sheets and limbs twisted up in such a way that not much of him is concealed. Nothing important, anyway.

The dim light filtering through the blinds falls in slats across Makoto’s face, catching the chocolate brown of his lashes and adding a honey halo to his hair. He’s smiling, even in sleep. Haru wonders if he’s having a pleasant dream.

Though he wants to bask in the serenity of the moment until Makoto wakes up (and no doubt ruins it by wanting to talk about their relationship,) his bladder isn’t waiting. Haru extracts himself from the bed as carefully as he can, making his way toward the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, he takes a second to examine himself in the mirror, stretching his arms up and arching his back to get out the kinks. Doing it on the floor had some definite drawbacks. He has a slight rash on his upper back and ass from being fucked against the carpet.

Thinking about it causes Haru’s cock to stir, only increasing his need to relieve himself. His bladder is deliciously full, and he’s going to revel in his morning piss.

Okay, so maybe he’s weird. Sometimes the sensation feels so good it kind of turns him on. Haru’s loved the sound of water since forever, too, so that’s a plus. He holds it in as long as his body will allow him before standing above the toilet.

He can’t help but recall the countless times Makoto slept over at his place in high-school, getting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom because he’d had too many cans of soda before bed.

The bathroom in Haru’s parents’ place had been right next to his room, and the walls were thin. Haru had gotten a strange thrill from listening to Makoto’s stream, imagining him with his pants sitting low around his hips, at least half of his ass exposed, penis in hand; but his favourite thing of all had been hearing Makoto’s satisfied, semi-orgasmic moans as he let go. More than once, Haru had gotten hard from it.

Okay, so he’s definitely weird. No maybe about it. Haru lets himself picture Makoto’s naked body as he releases his bladder, holding it in to make the stream slow, torturing himself with how good it feels. About midway through, he pushes the rest out in a powerful gush, groaning at the force of it rushing past his tip.

He knows he shouldn’t love peeing this much, the feeling or the sound. He’s a disgusting piece of trash.

But now that he’s gotten himself all excited, and Makoto’s there, waiting for him in the next room…

Haru shakes himself off for far longer than is necessary or appropriate, until he’s really just stroking. Once he’s good and hard, he washes his hands and heads back to his room, a plan forming in his mind.

Makoto’s still asleep, but he’s moved into the middle of the mattress, laying on his back, one arm above his head against the pillow, all of his beautiful midsection and thighs on display. Haru can see the orca tattoo peeking out from under a strip of sheet. It’s like a wet dream, having somebody this fucking hot naked in his bed. Except it’s not a fantasy his brain is supplying him in the dead of night; it’s real.

Something tugs at the edge of his memory. 

“I like it from behind as much as I like giving it,” Makoto had once told him, cocky, arrogant.

Searching through the clothes hastily thrown into his hamper last night, Haru fishes out his tie. He advances on Makoto and runs a hand ever-so gently down his arm to his wrist, bringing it up to rest above his head with the other.

Makoto makes a soft sound and his eyelashes quiver, but his eyes don’t open. After a moment his slow breathing starts up again, and Haru releases his own held breath, threading the tie through the slats on his headboard and fastening Makoto’s wrists, pulling it tight.

“What d’you think you’re doing?” Makoto’s voice is husky with sleep, eyes half-open, wary.

Haru bites his lip, his erection twitching at Makoto’s expression. 

“I’m horny.” That’s the quickest way to explain things.

Makoto tests his binding, eyebrows raised. “A sneak attack, Haru? I thought you were better than this.”

“I’m not,” he answers, noting with pride that Makoto’s growing hard. He feels a pang deep within, wanting Makoto inside him, but he pushes it away. Not this time. Maybe for round two.

“Get my glasses, then,” Makoto says, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “I want to see.”

Haru plucks the thick black frames off of the bedside table. Curious, he unfolds the arms and tries them on, glancing around the room. The prescription’s a lot stronger than he’d guessed. 

“You look like an owl in those,” Makoto laughs. Haru sees that he’s gotten even more aroused, his heavy erection lying against his belly. Fascinating. Haru sits on the edge of the bed, leaning in close and transferring the glasses onto Makoto’s face.

“Thanks,” Makoto says, blowing a strand of sandy brown hair out of his eyes, his lips pursed into an “o.”

Haru taps Makoto’s bottom lip with the pad of his forefinger, tracing the outline of his mouth. Makoto’s breath is hot against his hand. Prodding gently, Makoto opens up enough to let Haru push his finger in. He’s not sure what’s going on, but the way Makoto stares at him with half-lidded eyes while sucking at his finger, well, it gets him hot.

He adds another finger, thrusting them in and out of Makoto’s mouth, imagining that what’s actually getting sucked is the erect organ between his legs. He likes the way Makoto’s cheek rounds out when his fingers are knuckle deep.

Pulling them out of Makoto’s mouth, Haru can see a faint blush creeping across his face. It’s a great look on him. Haru’s always admired the way Makoto rocks his glasses; while Rei’s give him a sharp, sophisticated aura (until the moment his mouth opens, at least,) Makoto’s make him look softer, intelligent, vulnerable. The sort of quiet, approachable guy you might meet at Starbucks, reading “The Fault in Our Stars” over in the corner by himself, nursing a caramel macchiato and a piece of lemon poppyseed loaf. 

Basically, Haru likes them because they bring back memories of the way Makoto used to be, back when they were best friends. Another element of their habitual sleepovers that Haru hadn’t known he’d missed until just now. 

His cock twinges, a dribble of precum seeping from the tip. He better hurry if he doesn’t want to come all over Makoto’s thigh instead of inside of him, like he has planned. Running his hands down Makoto’s chest, he uses his saliva-soaked fingers to rub and tease one nipple, eliciting a sharp intake of breath on Makoto’s part.

As crazy as Haru is for this new, edgy, dangerous version of the man he’s loved since childhood, it’s supremely relaxing to have Makoto bare and open under his hands, reacting in the way Haru thinks he might have if they’d tried this when they were young. Yes, it’s relaxing, yet sexy as hell.

Haru teases both of Makoto’s nipples at the same time, watching his eyelids flutter as he rests his head back. Haru slides his palms across Makoto’s skin, over the orca tattoo, down his belly and treasure trail to his thighs. When he drags his nails lightly along his v-lines, Makoto’s hips buck up slightly and he hisses.

Haru leans over to snatch the lube out of his bedside table drawer, crawling in between Makoto’s legs. He holds the small bottle in his teeth and spreads Makoto’s thighs open wider, bracing them with his knees so he can use his hands to squeeze lube into his hand, slicking it over his fingers. 

Haru tears his gaze from Makoto’s huge cock long enough to catch the expression his face. He’s watching Haru with curiosity and a hint of anticipation, an enormous smile spreading lazily across his face.

“I can start on two fingers,” he says, “I’m used to it.”

That cements it for Haru. He doesn’t remember Makoto being this damn smug. This has nothing to do with the vain desire to make Makoto forget about every single other person he’s ever slept with. Absolutely nothing.

Haru pushes his middle and ring finger in, holding Makoto’s legs open with his free hand. The way Makoto grunts, hips jumping slightly, is immensely satisfying. 

The heat around his fingers is hot, tighter than he’d expected after everything Makoto had hinted at. He navigates by feel, gyrating his wrist, in and out, in and out, searching for the sweet spot he knows is there.

“Up,” Makoto instructs, “and deeper.”

Haru follows his advice, crooking his fingers, pushing as far in as he can go, until he feels Makoto shiver. He presses the same spot again, rubbing against it until a muted groan leaves Makoto’s lips. Found it.

Haru removes his hand just far enough to slip his index finger in too, Makoto’s ragged sigh shooting straight to his crotch. He begins flicking his wrist back and forth in earnest, grinding them inside Makoto’s ass. He keeps going long after his arm stops hurting and goes numb, addicted to the way Makoto moans his name, the way his face looks, how his thighs start to tremble after a while.

Once he’s got Makoto shivering, arms straining a little against the fabric of the tie, Haru decides to speed things along. Because he’s so horny, not because Makoto’s got ten times more stamina than him. Whatever. It’s not his fault Makoto’s turned into some kind of sex god. Even if he wishes it was.

Combining his precum with the lube already thick on his fingers is probably good enough, Haru thinks. He uses his hand to guide his cock up against Makoto’s entrance, appreciating the way Makoto obligingly spreads for him, practically sucking him in.

Haru thrusts his hips once, twice, and then he’s all the way in. All the way inside Makoto, who’s tight and hot around him, looking up at him through the frames of his glasses, cheeks a rosy red, arms still secured uselessly above him.

Haru really, really likes this view. He moves his hips, trying his best to angle in the direction of Makoto’s sweet spot, but he doesn’t care that much at the moment. He’s a selfish lover.

Haru pumps harder, faster, fingers digging into Makoto’s skin as he greedily seeks out more friction against his cock, desperate for release. Heat like live wires coils tightly in his belly, and he knows it’s only been five fucking minutes, maybe even less, but he’s going to come, needs to come, and then Makoto’s arching his back beneath him, body wracked with orgasm as he spurts across his own stomach, and Haru’s only surprised for a millisecond before he’s coming too, possibly crying Makoto’s name but he’s not sure, thrusting into him until they’re both finished.

Makoto is as sweaty and breathless as he is. That pleases him. He lets himself fall across Makoto’s torso, ignoring the sticky come that coats his chest. As if he needs a reason to have another shower. He closes his eyes. Or he could go back to sleep and shower later. It’s his day off, after all…

Makoto’s stomach growls.

“I’m hungry,” he says, sheepishly.

 

 

Makoto devours his pancakes, relishing how good they taste. He can’t believe he didn’t know Haru’s a chef. He supposes they’ve been too busy fucking whenever they meet to have much in the way of meaningful conversation. God, he’s starving. 

Sex and pancakes in the same morning. Makoto smiles and hums to himself, wondering idly if maple syrup would taste as good on Haru as the raspberry jam had. Probably. Anything would taste good if he were licking it off of Haru.

He looks up over the top of his glasses and catches Haru staring at him. Haru averts his eyes.

“What, are you shy now? There’s no reason to be.” Makoto knows it’s not the sex that Haru’s embarrassed about, but the confession he made last night. Makoto could giggle. He shouldn’t, though; he’s a grown man. He giggles anyway. Hopefully Haru didn’t notice.

Haru doesn’t say anything, but he does shuffle over in his apron and pajama pants to flip another pancake out of the pan onto Makoto’s plate. Makoto doesn’t mind. It’s what the pancake represents that counts. 

“Haru,” he says, sweetening his voice to try to cushion his next sentence. “We should talk.”

Haru’s eyes flicker in Makoto’s direction. He takes his time ladling batter into the sizzling pan before replying. “About what,” he asks, although Makoto understands it’s just delay tactic.

“About us. About our relationship.”

Haru stands, rigid. At least he’s not running away.

“I live in Tokyo, Haru, and you live here. We barely know each other anymore.”

Makoto sees Haru knot his fist into his apron.

“That being said,” he hurries on, “I do love you. I’m willing to try making this work, if y-.”

“I am,” Haru interrupts. “I want you.”

Oh god. Another sneak attack. “So we’re, what? Dating?”

“Yes,” Haru says. He narrows his eyes. “Exclusively.”

Makoto’s tempted to make love to Haru once more, right there in the kitchen, but he’s had a lot of pancakes and he fears it wouldn’t end well. 

Haru’s looking at him again.

“What?”

“Exclusively,” he repeats with force.

“Yes, exclusively. I’m not a cheater,” Makoto assures him, feeling vaguely uneasy as he recalls his last session with Sousuke. Haru hadn’t been a real thing yet. It didn’t count.

Haru turns his head, turning the pancake over. “Your phone is vibrating.”

Makoto can’t even hear it. He pats the pockets of his jeans. Where had he left it? He finds it on the floor in the living room. He should help Haru move his furniture back later. He checks his messages while he finishes his breakfast.

 

Sousuke (10:19): you have to meet with Matsuoka-san today since you skipped out last night

Outgoing Messages (10:21): sure. so she liked the show?

Sousuke (10:21): ya

Outgoing Messages (10:22): what time am I meeting her, and where?

Sousuke (10:24): her place. 2 pm. i’ll txt the address

Outgoing Messages (10:24): her place? that’s kind of weird.

Sousuke (10:25): i dunno man, Rin suggested it. he lives with her and her bf i guess

Outgoing Messages (10:26): speaking of Rin, how’d things go last night? ;)

 

Makoto uses his last piece of pancake to soak up the leftover syrup in his plate, watching Haru eat across from him. Haru’s one of those rare people who can somehow eat gracefully, delicately cutting out small bites with a knife and fork, whereas Makoto hasn’t even touched his knife. He can feel the huge smile growing on his face. Haru is undeniably adorable.

Makoto’s phone vibrates.

 

Sousuke (10:31): not good. i said something stupid. turns out he’s not so okay with the whole you and me dynamic. jeez, hes got a temper. and a strong left hook.

 

Suddenly Makoto dreads the fact that he has to be at Rin’s place in less than four hours. He remembers that temper. 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I can't be convinced Haru doesn't have a piss fetish~~ but we can argue at [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	14. Dude, I Totally Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please don’t hurt me.”
> 
> “Why would I hurt you?” Rin asks, calmly inspecting his fingernails. It’s suspicious as fuck. “That’s called battery. It’s kind of a no-no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave up and starting writing the backstory to this fic. College AUs, anyone?

“Oi,” Rin says, opening the front door before Makoto can even knock.

Makoto’s a big guy. He’s strong. He knows this about himself. He’s also never been in a real fight before, and has no desire to change that. He balks, standing far enough away that Rin can’t reach him. He’s ready to flee. If he has to.

Rin’s looking at him like he’s the world’s biggest idiot. “I see word travels fast.”

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“Why would I hurt you?” Rin asks, calmly inspecting his fingernails. It’s suspicious as fuck. “That’s called battery. It’s kind of a no-no.”

Makoto probably shouldn’t say it, but… “You punched Sousuke.”

“Sousuke’s an asshole,” Rin growls. There it is.

“I’m sorry.”

Rin glares at him and then sighs, dropping his hand loosely at his side. “Whatever. It’s not your fault.”

“There isn’t anything romantic between us,” Makoto blurts, “I prom-”

“Yeah yeah, I believe you. I’ll get over it,” Rin says through clenched teeth. “It just wasn’t what I wanted to hear at that particular fucking moment, y’know?”

Makoto can empathize with that. “He’s an idiot sometimes, but he’s a great guy. You should give him another chance.”

“I know,” Rin says, chewing his lip. “I’d go back over there right now…”

“Why don’t you?”

“”Cause I’d have to apologize. Don’t feel like it.”

Makoto has to laugh. Same stubborn, emotional Rin. Some things don’t change, and for that, he’s grateful.

Rin flashes Makoto a tight-lipped smile and steps back from the door. “Get in here. You’re already late.”

Makoto follows him into the house. It’s open and spacious on the inside, modern decor. Extremely clean. Rei would approve. “So you live here with Gou?”

Rin snorts vehemently. “Against my will. I’m staying here until my place is fixed. Broken water main.” He offers Makoto a place to sit at the kitchen table.

“That sucks! Is all your stuff okay?” 

“Some of it. Everything in my room was pretty much destroyed, though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Rin shrugs. “Insurance’ll cover it.”

“It’s nice of your sister to let you stay here.”

“True, but they have me in the fucking stag beetle room. Gives me the creeps.”

Makoto wracks his brain. Stag beetles. He used to know someone obsessed with those things. 

“Mikoshiba...what was his name?”

"Momotarou," Rin supplies, dryly.

"Captain Seijuurou's kid brother? The hyper one with the speedos?" 

“Yeah,” Rin says, laughing at Makoto’s expression. “Living with him is gonna be the death of me. He never. Fucking. Shuts. Up.”

“So he finally wore your sister down. Miracles do happen.”

Rin leans forward, a little more serious now. “I’m pretty sure she agreed to one date just to get him to shut up, y’know? I was worried she kept going out with him out of pity.”

Makoto can’t really picture no-nonsense Gou staying with somebody because she feels bad for him. “Still worried?”

Rin puts his feet up on the coffee table. “Four years later they’re living together, and she’s letting him have entire room to keep stag beetles in. I think they’re gonna be okay.”

Makoto whistles. “A whole room of beetles? He must have gotten way worse since school.”

“Oh. He’s an entomologist,” Rin says, as if that explains everything.

“He studies word origins?” 

“No.” Rin cocks his head to the side, confused. “Bugs.”

Well, THAT makes a hell of a lot more sense. “Don’t you have to have a master’s degree in science to do that?”

“Yeah. He finished last year. Who fucking knew, right?” Rin pulls out his phone, which is buzzing loudly. “Gou’s gonna be here right away. She says to tell you she’s sorry.”

Wait. “She’s not even here?”

“She left in a hurry about an hour ago. Didn’t tell me where she went.”

“Why’d you tell me I was late?”

Rin stands, tugging his black tank top down from where it’s settled at his midriff. “Just ‘cause she’s not here doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be on time.”

Makoto gives him a mock salute. “Yes, Captain Matsuoka.”

Rin rolls his eyes. “I’m working on it.”

“On what?”

“Making police captain.”

Makoto smiles. He was referring to Rin’s year as captain of the swim team, not his current job. “I’m sure you’ll make it in no time, provided you stop punching people.”

“I only punch people who deserve it,” he says, going into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

“Water, please.”

Rin comes back a moment later, tossing a plastic bottle in Makoto’s direction. It bounces off of Makoto’s hands, his fingers not quite fast enough to close around it, but he manages a graceless catch on the rebound. Rin’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe. 

“Golden,” Makoto informs him.

“Reflexes like a cat!”

Makoto chuckles, taking a sip. “I have to say, I’m kind of relieved you’re a real police officer. I was worried that maybe you were a stripper.”

“Nah. Not that I wouldn’t fucking rock that job- and probably make more money- but I have bigger things going on.”

Makoto takes a better look at Rin. He’s a bit unkempt today, slight wear and fatigue showing on his face, but his eyes still shine as brightly as Makoto remembers. He seems happy. It’s just like Rin to have big dreams, but Makoto wonders what had made him give up on his previous goal. 

“I always thought you were going to the Olympics.”

Rin nods at Makoto, as though he's been expecting the question. "I was. I worked on it for a couple of years after graduating."

"Oh," Makoto says. He doesn't want to make things uncomfortable by asking what happened.

"I didn't suck," Rin tells him. "That's not why I stopped. Something happened that made me change my mind, is all."

"Wow. It must have been something amazing to get you to give up."

Now Rin looks a bit unsettled. "It was. You know how you were captain?"

"I have vague memories."

"I'm being serious, Makoto."

"Yeah, I remember being captain." As if he could ever forget about that.

"Right. And when you're captain, your team is like your family. You take care of them."

Makoto nods. He remembers.

"You were kinda like the club dad. You were so easy-going, sensible, responsible, good to go to for advice, y'know? And you had that knack for dealing with Haru."

"Yeah, as much good as that did." Makoto has no idea where Rin's going with this.

"It did do them good. You have no idea. I never realized how much shit you had to deal with on the daily until after you left."

Makoto rubs the back of his neck. "It wasn't really that bad. I took care of the twins all the time, too, so it's not like it was a big deal..."

"It was a big deal. When you left-" Rin says, looking at Makoto, "and I'm not blaming you, totally not- I'm just saying that when you left, the guys kinda started coming to me for stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Now Makoto's attention is caught. He wants to hear more about post-graduation Haru.

"First of all, Haru was a fucking basket case after you went. If he could have stayed in bed for the rest of his life he probably would’ve. I tried everything to get the bastard to come out, act like a human being again." He describes Haru like he’s some sort of stray cat living under the porch that has to be lured out with pieces of mackerel. Which, Makoto agrees, isn’t the most inaccurate summary of Haru’s personality.

"I have a hard time believing that. You're the one who got him to go to Australia," Makoto says. He's still bitter about it.

Rin tosses his empty water bottle onto the coffee table where it rolls to a stop, sideways. "Yeah, he came, but he didn't bring a swimsuit."

Makoto can feel himself gaping. "What?"

"Yeah. Best fucking beaches in the world, and he wouldn't go in the water 'cause he didn't have his damn swimsuit. He was like a lost puppy without you."

"I...I didn't know that." It's hard to stamp out the surge of guilt building inside him. None of this was my fault, Makoto tells himself.

"You know what his parents are like, too. The team was pretty much the most family he ever had. We all graduated, moved away, started doing things with our lives, but Haru just...stayed where he was."

The swim club had felt like a family to Makoto, too, but more like a second family. He's always been lucky to have parents who care for him and support him no matter what, and siblings whose love is unconditional, if unorthodox and downright irritating at times.

For Haru, the swim club was all he had. Makoto had known that. He feels horrible for being selfish, for leaving, but he also knows that he wouldn't change what he did, if given the chance. He's okay with the person he is today because of the choices he made back then. He wouldn't exchange those experiences for the world.

"I couldn't spend my whole life taking care of him, Rin."

Rin spreads his hands, palms toward Makoto. "I get it. I'm not judging you. My point was that between dealing with Haru and trying to keep Nagisa in one piece after he and Rei broke up-"

"I know, Rei told me about that."

"He was in deep shit. You didn't see it. Neither did Rei, for that matter, not really. Nagisa was fucked up. Haru was like a dream compared to him."

"I'm...I'm sorry I wasn't there, to, to help, but I..."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm just saying, somewhere along the way, the Olympics stopped being my dream. I realized that it had only been my dream when I thought it meant I could be with my friends."

Makoto almost wishes he could hide. He's not sure what to do when Rin gets so intense. "I'm sorry I killed your dream."

Rin's voice is fierce. "I said I'm not blaming you. And nobody killed it, get it? My friends were my dream, not swimming in the Olympics. So I decided I wanted to do something useful with my life."

"That's why you joined the police force?"

"Yeah," Rin says, calming down again. "I, uh, didn't handle Nagisa all that well and kinda ended up making it worse. People need to learn how to deal with that kind of thing, y'know? And nobody fucking talks about it."

"If anyone can change the way things are, Rin, it's you."

Rin picks up his empty water bottle again, fidgeting with it. "I'm trying."

They sit in silence for awhile until Rin turns on the t.v. Makoto checks the clock. It's almost three. All he wants to do is go back to Haru's. He's heading for Tokyo on Wednesday, and he wants to be with Haru until the minute he has to leave.

"Do you think Gou'll be here soon?"

"Probably. Got somewhere to be?"

Heat rises unbidden into Makoto's cheeks. "Kind of."

"Haru's?"

"Yeah."

"What's the deal with you two, anyway?" Rin drapes his arms out over the back of the couch.

"We're dating. I guess. As of this morning. I'm not really sure how it's gonna work."

"What aren't you sure about?"

Makoto taps his chin, thinking of how to put his apprehensions into words. "First of all, long distance relationships are hard."

Rin laughs. "You're saying you're not moving back here to be with him?"

"No," Makoto says, wrinkling his nose. "I have a life in Tokyo. I'm not gonna give up everything I've done all for Haru. I mean, we're like strangers now."

"At least you knew him back then. I have no idea what I'm doing with Sousuke.” Rin stares up at the ceiling. “Especially since you guys are leaving, y'know? We haven't even slept together yet."

"Apologizing to him's step one.”

"Yeah. I dunno. It's probably pointless to try with him."

"Then why are you bothering?"

Rin grins. "I like him. I don't wanna pass up something great just 'cause I didn't try. Right?" He punches Makoto gently on the shoulder.

"Yeah. I definitely understand how you feel."

They settle back into watching some romantic comedy re-run. Rin mumbles something about changing the channel to “the game,” but nothing ever comes of it. Makoto knows of Rin's secret passion for romances of any kind, but he's generous enough not to say anything. When the show ends, Makoto checks his phone. It’s now half past three.

Rin sighs and sits forward, running his hands through his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Makoto can’t see Rin’s face from his position, leaning against the back of the couch.

“It’s about Sousuke...and you.”

Makoto is prepared for this. “I’ll answer anything you ask me. So make sure you actually want to know.”

“So, uh,” Rin glances at Makoto over his shoulder. The front door opens and Makoto can hear keys jingle and the click of high-heels on linoleum. “Never mind.”

“Makoto-senpai, I’m so so so sorry I’m late,” Gou says breathlessly, rushing into the room in a blur of pantyhose, black pencil skirt, and grey blouse.

“Don’t worry,” Makoto reassures her, standing. “I was catching up with Rin. Is everything okay?”

“I had to deal with another one of my clients,” she says, striding across the room to shake his hand warmly. “Did Yamazaki-san tell you what’s going on, yet?”

Makoto smiles. Straight to the point. This job suits Gou well. “Yes, I’m basically here to sign the dotted line.”

“Right. I’m just the representative for this region, so you’ll be doing most of the real work in Tokyo. The head office will be in contact with you once you get there.”

Makoto nods, glancing at the stack of neatly stapled paper Gou produces for him. “Okay.”

“They’ll also want to discuss going on tour, once you release your first album.”

“Tour?” Makoto asks, startled.

“Well, yes. To promote your work. You’ll probably be travelling for at least eight months out of the year.”

Makoto sighs. “Right.”

That’s great news for his career. It’s not great news for his fragile relationship with Haru.

Makoto is grateful that Gou’s so efficient; she talks him through the contract in less than half an hour. She hands him a pen.

Makoto takes a deep breath. He signs.

Gou makes a sound that’s almost a squeal. “Oh, I’m so happy to have you guys, Makoto-senpai!” 

“I’m happy you’re our agent,” he says. “I’m familiar with your management style. You’ll do a great job.” 

He’s also happy because having an agent in Iwatobi gives him an excuse to visit more often. Wow. His attitude sure has changed since last month.

“I’ll do my best,” Gou says. “I’m pretty dedicated to what I do. I spent most of my day trying to track down a parrot-shaped chocolate fountain.”

Rin snorts. “Jesus, who for?”

“That’s confidential information,” Gou tells him.

“That seems like a fairly extreme request,” Makoto says.

Gou lets out an exasperated sigh. “That’s show business for you.”

Makoto stays long enough to have a cup of coffee with Gou before informing them that he really has to go.

“Maybe I’ll text you later,” Rin says, exchanging numbers with Makoto. “Y’know, if I have any questions.”

Makoto smiles. Rin was braver through text or email than he was face to face. Then again, so is Makoto, for the most part.

“I’ll answer them,” Makoto says. 

“Today was, uh, nice,” Rin says lamely.

It was nice for Makoto, too. More than nice. “Yeah. I hope to see a lot more of you in the future.”

Rin grins. “I might even see you before you leave. I’m probably gonna head over to your place now.”

“Good luck.”

“You need it more than I do,” he laughs.

Makoto thinks there's a good chance he's right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always willing to chat at [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	15. Body Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You like pain,” Sousuke says.
> 
> “Lets me know I’m alive,” Rin answers. The depth of his words can be surprising sometimes.
> 
> “You’re more alive than most,” Sousuke tells him truthfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what happened. SouRin took over this chapter. It's literally just those two getting nasty. With a tiny bit of plot progression (if you squint hard. And I mean HARD.)

Rin closes the door behind Makoto, turning to lean his back against it.

“A parrot-shaped chocolate fountain? Really?”

Gou sticks her tongue out at him, bending to pick up her purse from where it lies next her red pumps. 

“It was the first thing I could think of,” she says.

“Laaaame,” Rin drawls. “I can’t believe he bought it.”

“I’m glad he did. I felt so bad, but it took longer than I thought and then before I knew it it was after three.”

Rin’s practically vibrating under his skin, bursting with the question. He tries to make his voice casual when he asks. 

“So how’d it go?”

His sister’s cheeks are rosy, eyes shining. “Fourteen weeks.”

“Nice,” Rin whoops, pumping his fist in a gesture of victory. “What’d he say? What’d he do?” Rin’s a sucker for romance. 

“He thinks we should get married.” Gou smiles. “You were right.”

“I told you!” Rin laughs, feeling giddy. “Are you gonna do it?”

Gou crosses her arms, lifting her chin in the air. Rin can tell it’s an act.

“I told him I’d consider it,” she sniffs, “IF he asks me properly. Fancy dinner, ring, the works.”

Rin goes to her and drapes his arm across her shoulders. “You’re finally learning. There’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks, onii-chan,” Gou says, rolling her eyes. “There isn’t any for you. You’re a lost cause.”

Rin just grins. “I know. Speaking of that, I’m outta here for the night.”

“...Be careful.” 

“I’m not going to work, I’m going to Sousuke’s,” Rin replies, putting on his shoes and opening the door.

“I know,” Gou says, barely audible.

He pretends not to hear.

Walking toward the train station, Rin feels his phone vibrate. Probably Sousuke. Checking, he sees there is a text from Sousuke, confirming that yeah, he’s home right now, and there’s also a new message from Nagisa. Geez.

 

Little Blond Shit (16:23): wuts up, slut? ;) i heard sumthin good from mako-chan

Sent! (16:26): Yeah? Like waht?

 

It’s hard to type while he’s walking. Oh well, it’s not like Nagisa has space to comment on his spelling. The guy is basically the worst thing to happen to language since the burning of the Library of Alexandria.

 

Little Blond Shit (16:26): your screwing that hot guitarist??

 

What the fuck! Why would Makoto tell that to Nagisa? That asshole. Nagisa was the worst person to ever tell anything private to. Everyone in Rin’s life would know about it within an hour. That wouldn’t be so bad, on its own, but now he’d have to expect Nagisa’s unwanted, unstoppable brand of “help.” When Nagisa got involved in his love life, it never ended well (maybe not BECAUSE of Nagisa, but some of his past advice had sure sped things along.) Why the hell did Rin ever listen to this idiot?

 

Sent! (16:27): I’m not screwing him…

Sent! (16:27): He is hot, though.

Little Blond Shit (16:28): totally! now you can back off my man :D

Sent! (16:29): ha ha. Shut up.

 

Honestly, did he have to bring that up every fucking time? Rin had kind of sort of made out with Rei ONE TIME. When they were drunk. Like, eight years ago, when Nagisa and Rei weren’t even together.

Man, that had been awkward. The unholy result of Rin’s confusion regarding his emerging bisexuality, Rei’s misguided search for human comfort during a rough emotional period, and a fuck load of rum and coke. They’d both agreed afterward that they didn’t feel “that way” about each other and decided never to speak of it again.

But of course Speedo Glasses had told Nagisa like the fucking second they’d gotten back together. Something about maintaining his moral integrity. And Nagisa had had a trump card ever since. At least the little (well, not so little anymore) devil had never found out about his huge crush on Haru, though that had been pretty much entirely physical. Rin guesses black-haired, blue-eyed guys might be his type. 

Rin puts his phone away so he can focus on the train schedule. He buys a single ticket and gets on, standing to make room for a very pregnant lady. He can’t stop smiling, thinking of Gou. He’s not gonna let Nagisa’s teasing ruin his evening.

Checking his cell again, he discovers his inbox is flooded.

 

Little Blond Shit (16:29): whatevs, i cant blame u ~(^o^)~ my bae is hard to resist ;D ;D

Captain Screamo (16:31): I am so sorry, i accidentally told Nagisa about you and Sou!

Ocean Eyes (16:33): you better get your hot ass over here soon or i’m gonna start without you.

Sister Dearest (16:34): Can you pick up some lightbulbs on your way back tomorrow? Please and thanks. Have a good time. Be safe.

Ocean Eyes (16:36): definitely starting without you. 

 

Rin doesn’t care about any of the messages except Sousuke’s, typing a furious retort and trying not to imagine things that’ll give him an obvious problem in the middle of a crowded train car. He wishes the train would hurry the fuck up and get him there faster. 

 

 

Sousuke hasn’t gotten dressed since his shower, opting instead to lounge around in his bathrobe. What’s the point of getting dressed when he’s just going to disrobe again? Being able to walk around naked is actually one of the few reasons he’s excited to go back home.

He wonders what could be taking Rin so long, sending him a couple more provocative texts and getting the same threatening “don’t even think about it” responses in return. It’s so much fun teasing Rin. He’s such a hothead.

Makoto had gotten better at saucy responses over time (and Sousuke would proudly take the credit for it,) but he’s nowhere near as good as Rin. They aren’t even in the same league. Sousuke finds Rin’s fiery spirit sexier than hell. Rin threw himself into everything he did with so much intensity and passion that Sousuke could practically feel flames radiating from him. 

Sousuke liked playing with fire. He’s looking forward to trying to tame Rin; hoping he’ll get burned along the way. Sousuke’s an unabashed sadist, and there’s nothing better than disciplining a partner who doesn’t want to behave. Rin’s a definite fighter. 

Thinking about subduing Rin gets Sousuke going without even having to touch himself. He can’t wait to introduce the bad-mouthed firecracker to his world. He can’t get too extreme tonight, though. He doesn’t want to scare the guy off. Some of the more hardcore elements of his bedroom play would probably be best left for another time. Third date kind of stuff.

Sousuke gets a thrill when he hears Rin bang on the door five minutes later. He remains stationary on the couch, biding his time, answering the door after Rin’s third bout of knocking. It’s good to make them wait. 

“Sorry,” he says lazily, taking in Rin’s windswept hair, the tight black wifebeater that clings to his abs and shows off his spectacular arms, and the way the front of his track pants bulges just enough to be noticeable.

“Geez, you move like an old man,” Rin answers, inviting himself in and kicking off his shoes. Perfect. Sousuke doesn’t mind it when Rin’s minorly irritated. It’s hot.

“I was busy.”

“Whatever,” Rin calls over his shoulder on his way toward Sousuke’s bedroom. “I’m not in the mood for foreplay.”

“Is that so?” Sousuke follows after him, leaving his robe behind. “Still jazzed from last time?”

Rin’s in the middle of pulling his shirt off over his head, back to the door. “No, but I decided to forgive you. Y’know, for being an ass.”

“Gracious of you.” Sousuke has a prominent bruise on his ribs from Rin’s punch. He’s about to exact his revenge. “What brought that on?”

“I’m in a good mood,” Rin shrugs, turning to face him. “I just found out I’m gonna be…”

Sousuke loves the excited grin on Rin’s face as he relays his good news. But the way it slides off his face in surprise, wide wine-coloured eyes locking on Sousuke’s naked body like he’s about to go in for the kill, well, Sousuke loves that even more.

“...an uncle,” Rin finishes, setting his hands on his hips, eyes roving slowly up Sousuke’s torso to his face.

“Don’t think you can handle this?” Sousuke’s erection is formidable; he knows it. He sincerely doubts Rin’s ever taken on anything his size before. For a second he’s worried Rin’ll pussy out.

Then the grin snaps back onto Rin’s face. “Bring it.”

“I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face,” Sousuke promises, moving toward Rin, who steps forward to meet him in the middle of the room. They come together in a clash of teeth and tongue, both battling for control over the kiss. Rin digs his nails into Sousuke’s ass as he squeezes it, creating delicious friction on Sousuke’s cock as he crushes up against him. 

Sousuke grasps a handful of Rin’s hair and tugs firmly, making him tilt his head back. He finishes off the kiss by sucking on Rin’s lower lip, then moves down to bite his neck, just above his collarbone.  
Rin groans, his skin vibrating against Sousuke’s lips. He doesn’t retract his nails, though.

“You like pain,” Sousuke says.

“Lets me know I’m alive,” Rin answers. The depth of his words can be surprising sometimes.

“You’re more alive than most,” Sousuke tells him truthfully, biting down hard again before licking up to Rin’s ear to administer another sharp nip with his teeth. Rin’s nails drag across his thighs, making him shiver.

He allows Rin to take the lead in a second aggressive kiss while he sees to removing his pants and boxers. Sousuke can’t remember the last time he was this excited to see somebody naked. But Rin’s holding him fast around the neck, shoving his tongue in Sousuke’s mouth, not letting him look. Sousuke could break his hold if he tried, but instead he settles for exploring Rin’s body with his hands, down over his ass and around his thighs to stroke his hard cock.

Rin moans through his nose, gently biting down on Sousuke’s tongue and dragging them across it as he pulls away. Rin’s eyes are lit up like paper lanterns, his chest heaving with each breath, challenging grin spread across his face.

“Smirk’s still here,” he says.

“I’m getting to that,” Sousuke replies. “I’d love to gag that smart mouth someday.”

“A gag?” Rin asks. He sounds sufficiently curious.

“Unless that scares you.”

The fire comes back into Rin’s eyes with a vengeance. “Do it to me now.”

Sousuke sighs, amused. What a stubborn guy. This could turn out incredibly fun- as long as Sousuke doesn’t push him too hard and break him.

“What all would you let me do to you?” he asks, the question serious.

“I’m up for anything you are,” Rin answers without hesitation. Sousuke gets the sense that Rin wouldn’t back down from a challenge even if he knew it was going to kill him. He’s probably a fucking great police officer.

“You’re on.” Sousuke crushes his mouth against Rin’s, practically having to wrestle him down onto the bed. God, it gets him so worked up the way Rin fights him, nails digging into his skin, their erections rubbing against each other. Sousuke can feel that Rin’s as achingly hard as he is. Finally he gets him pinned, straddling him and using his thighs to hold Rin in place as he reaches for his bedside table.

He feels around with his hand, still kissing Rin as hard as he can as a distraction. There. He pulls out a cleave gag, stopping the kiss so can press the fabric against Rin’s mouth. It takes him more than a few minutes to get it tied, because Rin frustrates his efforts every step of the way, looking up at him with a spirited expression. Cleave gags aren’t too advanced- Rin should be able to speak around it with relative ease, though it may come out muffled.

“I love the way you struggle,” Sousuke murmurs, kissing his way down to bite one of Rin’s nipples. Rin gasps around the gag, back arching off the mattress for a second. Precum dribbles from the tip of his dick.

“You’re a yick basdard,” Rin manages to spit around the gag.

Sousuke laughs, stroking Rin’s erection. “What does that make you, then?”

“An eben yicker one,” he replies, bucking up into Sousuke’s hand, using his nails to grip Sousuke’s shoulders. Sousuke feels a twinge in his right shoulder, the one he’d hurt in a bar fight in university. It had never healed quite right.

He hisses through his teeth. Shit, Rin’s expression has gone from mischievous to downright demonic. Sousuke maneuvers his position before Rin can squeeze again, holding his wrist. It’s more difficult to hold him than Sousuke expected; he’s strong- Sousuke admires the way Rin’s muscles bulge as he strains to get free.

The next item Sousuke produces is a set of wrist cuffs, velvet, bought in a sex shop for this specific purpose. There’s an entire set of matching body restraint straps that go with it, but Sousuke’s not planning on using them this time.

He velcros one cuff around Rin’s fiercely struggling forearm, strapping him to the bedpost. The other arm he leaves. Rin can remove the gag or cuff at any time, or scratch as he pleases, but he won’t be able to reach Sousuke’s injured shoulder. 

Rin makes no move to undo the strap; his chest heaves with his breathing and he grinds himself up against Sousuke’s ass.

“God, you’re just begging to be fucked,” Sousuke comments, nibbling his way down Rin’s jaw.

“I yaid no woreplay,” Rin growls. He reminds Sousuke more and more of a wolf, or some predatory creature like that, caught, trussed up in Sousuke’s net. A shark, maybe.

Sousuke ignores him, getting off of the bed to get a couple of things from his dresser- a wax candle and a pack of matches.

“Since it’s our first time,” he says, “we should try and make this a little more romantic.”

Rin lets out a frustrated groan. His free hand remains at his side; Sousuke’s impressed he hasn’t resorted to stroking himself yet, considering the amount of precum glistening on his lower abs. Sousuke takes this chance to admire Rin’s body. He’s long and lean, with nicely tanned thighs and a well-muscled stomach that’s a contender for the best Sousuke’s ever seen.

Yet, Sousuke thinks it’s Rin’s face that attracts him the most. He’s pretty, like a girl, and he’s so damn expressive; that’s what gets him. Every emotion he experiences works its way into his countenance, and it’s fascinating to watch. Rin has more passion in one eyelash than normal people have in their whole bodies. 

Sousuke’s cock twitches with need. Time to get down to business. Striking a match, he lights the candle, seating himself on the edge of the bed, Rin’s hip warm against his lower back. Waiting for enough wax to melt and collect around the wick. He gives Rin his wickedest smile.

Rin returns it with an equally malicious grin, the candlelight catching his eyes and lighting them up like embers. Sousuke imagines that if dragons existed, they would have eyes like that.

Sousuke tweaks one of Rin’s nipples with his free hand, bending to bite his ribcage at the same spot as Sousuke’s own bruise. An eye for an eye. Sousuke sucks and licks it wet, then blows on it to cool the saliva. Meeting Rin’s gaze, he positions the candle, dripping a splotch of hot wax over the cool spot.

Rin cries out around the gag, nails scraping Sousuke’s good shoulder. Again and again Sousuke repeats the pattern, biting and then dripping, until Rin’s body is peppered with goosebumps and wax spots which dry in a trail down to his hip.

Sousuke pries Rin’s thighs apart with some effort, since he still hasn’t decided to be completely submissive, noting with satisfaction how much sweat trickles down them. The candlelight makes his sweat glisten. Sousuke’s reaching his limit, his dick leaking steadily onto the comforter. Just one more.

Sousuke lifts Rin’s knee, biting his inner thigh, licking the sweat from it. He lets one last fat drop of wax splatter against him, thinking to himself how much it looks like come, and how he’d love to see Rin’s thighs covered in his efforts.

Rin releases a lusty moan, fisting at the blanket, hips bucking violently. “Fugging do it already,” he hisses, a trail of spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

And they’ve both had enough teasing, so Sousuke puts out the candle between his fingers, putting it away in the nightstand when he leans over to retrieve lube and condoms. Throwing Rin’s knee over his good shoulder, Sousuke slicks up his fingers, pushing two inside at once. Rin’s very tight.

He hisses again, kicking at Sousuke with his free leg. 

“Relax,” Sousuke tells him, continuing to thrust his fingers in, stretching until he can fit far enough inside to reach the spot he’s looking for. He can tell instantly when he’s found it, because Rin lets out a strangled whimper and grinds his hips against him, yanking at the cuff.

Sousuke adds a third finger, rubbing into Rin’s sweet spot, wondering at how sensitive he is. Rin squeezes his thighs together around Sousuke’s arm, clamping down hard, cock spurting a large glob of precum. He’s panting hard, sweat dripping down his face.

It’s the final straw; Sousuke forces Rin’s legs apart, pulling his hand away to roll a condom on and lubricate himself. Sousuke hooks his arms under Rin’s knees and leans forward, lining his cock up with Rin’s hole. He thrusts his hips forward, burying himself, loving the way Rin’s hand is back on his chest, nails digging in as he grunts and swears in Sousuke’s ear.

Sousuke pumps harder and faster the more Rin struggles and squirms under him, pinning him, subduing him, but failing horribly. Rin is not submissive. Sousuke loves it. He’s coated in sweat and Rin’s precum by the time he feels Rin arch his back up against him, cock pressed between their bellies, and come, hot and wet.

“Fuuuuuuuugggg,” Rin yells, his body shuddering with orgasm in a way that makes Sousuke so hot he chases him over the edge, fucking into him until it’s over, his cock softening and going sensitive.  
Rin’s body is wracked by the occasional tremor for several minutes after that, and Sousuke thinks some of his scratches might actually bleeding, judging by how much they sting when the pleasure of orgasm starts to wear off.

Rin tears the gag out of his mouth and unstraps his wrist, breathing hard. “That was...not bad.”

Sousuke looks up at him from where he lays on Rin’s chest. “Not bad?”

“Yeah,” Rin says, slicking back his sweat-soaked hair. “For my first penetration.”

Sousuke doesn’t know what to say. This has to be a joke. His first time? No way.

Rin stretches out underneath him, sighing. “I’ve been with a couple guys, y’know, but it’s usually just blow jobs and shit. Definitely never been bottom before.”

“You...you’re…” What the fuck. Rin had beat him at his own game. And it’s fucking sexy as hell. “Wanna do this again?”

“Now? I guess I could.”

Seriously. Who does this guy think he is? “No, I meant another night. Although I could show you a few more things later, if you want.” 

“You fucking know I do,” Rin laughs. “But later works. I’m dying of thirst.”

“Yeah, in the fridge.” Sousuke sits up slowly, massaging bad his shoulder tentatively. He’s stiff.

Rin pauses in the middle of pulling his pants on. “What’s wrong with your arm?” 

“Hurt it,” Sousuke grunts. “A long time ago, in university.”

“Want me to do that? I have training dealing with sports injuries.”

“It wasn’t sports. It was in a fight, actually.”

“Whatever,” Rin says, pushing Sousuke’s hand away and starting to massage, gently. “Why am I not surprised? Huge guitar player getting in bar fights. Seems pretty cliched to me.”

“Makoto’s the one who can’t finish what he starts,” Sousuke says without thinking.

Rin’s quiet for a minute, but he doesn’t stop moving his fingers over Sousuke’s shoulder. “What’s the deal with you two, anyway?”

Sousuke really doesn’t feel like getting punched again. “We have to do this now?”

“I’m actually half-assed calm from all the fucking,” Rin says. “Unless you wanna wait ‘til I’m strung out again?”

“Fine, but you better not hit me.”

“Depends what you say.”

Sousuke sighs. “We’re just friends. Who, you know, fuck sometimes.”

“Makoto’s sure changed,” Rin mutters. “He always seemed like the committed boyfriend type.”

“He is,” Sousuke laughs. “It’s just that he was already committed to somebody when we met.”

“Haru?”

“Haru.”

“Yeah. I think Haru’s been the same way. It’s like they’ve been dating this whole time without even seeing each other.”

“...What? That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Shut up,” Rin says, swatting his back. “It’s romantic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be back to the regularly scheduled MakoHaru smut next chapter. I'm thinking it's about time Haru tries shower sex.
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	16. What Is Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto hears the water start as he kicks off his pants and falls back into bed, wrapping the comforter around himself. It smells like Haru, and it’s wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, babes. (Don't say that out loud...sounds stupid)

Makoto has begun to worry that he’s created a monster. Haru’s entirely too good at the seduction game. He’s in the middle of having a discussion with Haru about his record contract. Or trying to. It’s very one-sided.

“So I’m going to be on tour for-”

“Stay the night,” Haru interrupts.

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Makoto asks him, glancing at the handwritten schedule written on a post it note on the fridge. It has 7 am - 4 pm Wednesday scrawled on it in surprisingly delicate handwriting.

“I’m not going.”

“Haru, that’s irrespons-”

Haru cuts him off with a kiss.

“You can’t keep-” Makoto blushes when Haru moans in his mouth. On purpose. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to avoid talking about-”

Haru reaches into Makoto’s pants, grasping his cock and quickly stroking it to hardness. Fuck. Makoto pushes Haru off of him and up against the wall, taking over the kiss, biting Haru’s lip gently before pulling away.

“We are talking about this,” he says, eyes travelling over Haru’s tented pants, his frumpled button-up that’s pulled in such as a way as to reveal a little pale midriff, the aroused flush dusting his cheeks, and the way his eyes sparkle like a cat’s. Fuck it.

“Tomorrow. We are talking about this tomorrow,” Makoto says gruffly, leaning in to catch Haru’s lips in another passionate kiss, carrying him to the bedroom. He knows deep down that this having-sex-24/7 thing has to end eventually. They have some serious issues to talk about. Maybe if he can tire Haru out so he won’t run away…

But Makoto’s the one who ends up completely exhausted, drifting to sleep in Haru’s arms, satisfied yet slightly loathing himself for being so easily manipulated.

 

Makoto doesn’t wake up to sunlight and coffee, like he’s hoping. Instead he wakes up in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat. He’d had a nightmare that Ran and Ren were zombies, chasing him around a swimming pool, and then he’d slipped and fallen in but it turned out it was full of dead mackerel, and there had been something huge in there, brushing his feet as he struggled to keep his head above water… 

Makoto notices that it’s awfully dark in Haru’s room. He can’t even see the glowing numbers of an alarm clock anywhere.God, he’s a grown man. He should not be afraid of the dark. Still, some small fraction of him wants to wake Haru up. 

Instead, he carefully disentangles himself from the sheets, slipping out of bed and feeling for his pants on the floor. He pulls them on, the dark void of the bedroom around him giving him goosebumps. He practically runs out to the living room so he can turn on a lamp, accidentally banging his shin on the coffee table and jostling the fish.

“Sorry guys,” he whispers at them apologetically. He watches them swim around for a minute, then opens the door to the balcony, stepping out and digging a lighter and pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lights one and takes a long, deep drag, filling his lungs and holding it there until they ache for air. His hands slowly stop shaking as he puffs. The night air is chilly against his bare chest, but he doesn’t mind.

As he finishes his cigarette, idly considering lighting another, he hears the door slide open behind him. Haru appears beside him, wrapped in a fluffy blue robe.

“Let’s talk,” he says. Makoto can hardly believe his ears.

“You’re ready to stop acting like Nagisa?”

Haru blinks at him. “You should quit.”

“I’m not quitting my career for you, Haru.”

Haru glares at him. “You should quit smoking,” he clarifies.

“Nope. I’m not going to do that, either.”

“Why are we talking if you aren’t going to listen to anything I say?”

Makoto takes a moment to consider this. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m just...tired. And I’m worried.”

“About your nightmare?”

“How did you know I had a nightmare?”

“I was awake.”

Makoto wonders what Haru was thinking about, lying awake in the middle of the night, staring at the darkened ceiling.

“Oh. No, it’s not that.” He cocks his head to the side so he can gauge Haru’s reaction. “I’m worried because all we ever do is fuck. We haven’t had one single decent conversation, and I’m leaving tomorrow night. This doesn’t feel like a real relationship. It seems more like a booty call.”

“I want it to be real,” Haru says quietly. 

“Oh, thank god.” Wait. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Haru’s eyes shimmer. “We need to talk about my job, then.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know….Haru…” Makoto feels incredibly uneasy. He lights another cigarette.

“What,” Haru says, staring at the lighter a little vehemently. 

“Do you think this is worth it?” Makoto has so many doubts, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s terrified that this isn’t going to work and he’s going to lose Haru for good. And if that’s where this is going, well, he doesn’t want to get too attached. As if it’s not already too late for that.

Haru rests his hand on Makoto’s arm. “I want you to quit smoking,” he says again, firmly.

Makoto understands that’s Haru’s way of saying he wants Makoto to stick around for a while. That he expects them to be together long enough to see the end results. Makoto smiles. 

“I...I’ll try to cut down,” he says. “I’m not promising anything.”

“I’ll let you fuck my mouth again.”

Makoto nearly chokes to death on the rest of his cigarette. He grinds it out on the railing. “Okay, so I’m quitting right now.” 

He’s ashamed to say he’s getting turned on just from remembering the way it felt in Haru’s mouth. Dammit. Haru’s already graduated to using sex as a weapon. Sousuke was right. He’s a total minx. Unfortunately, Makoto’s too tired for another round. His muscles still ache from the last one.

Haru snorts. “I’m taking a shower,” he announces. 

“Right now? What time is it?”

Haru shrugs, opening the sliding glass door and going inside. Makoto goes in after him, shivering slightly. If the puckered state of his nipples is any indication, it’s freaking cold out there. He wants to climb back into bed and snuggle under the blankets until he thaws out.

“Do what you want. I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay,” Haru says, turning on the bathroom light and closing the door behind him. Makoto hears the water start as he kicks off his pants and falls back into bed, wrapping the comforter around himself. It smells like Haru, and it’s wonderful.

Makoto’s on the edge of sleep, listening the faint pattering sound of the shower, when the urge to use the toilet hits him. Ugh. He groans, kicking the blankets off. He doesn’t bother putting any clothes on.

“Haru,” he calls, knocking on the door. “Can I come in for a sec?”

It takes a while for Haru to answer. “Why?”

“I have to pee.” 

Another long silence, the water still gushing like a rainstorm, making Makoto’s need even more potent.

“Fine,” comes the eventual, haughty reply.

Makoto opens the door and goes straight for the toilet. Haru’s turned the water off now, but he’s still behind the shower curtain. What a weirdo. He’s probably waiting for his skin to air dry. He used to do that sometimes.

Makoto sighs as he pees. It feels so good to be in the warmth of the bathroom. So good, in fact, that his next sigh might be closer to a moan. The warm steam caressing his chest and ass feels amazing. Like a sauna.

The shower curtain rustles slightly, and Makoto can feel Haru’s eyes on him without having to look.

“What are you staring at me for?” Makoto asks, finishing up. “You’ve seen me naked. A lot.”

Then a wet hand hooks under Makoto’s arm and Haru’s dragging him into the shower. Makoto has to step over the edge of the tub quickly so he doesn’t fall, maneuvering around the shower curtain and trying not to slip.

“Haru, what the hell are you…”

Makoto forgets what he’s trying to say. Haru’s standing in front of him naked and dripping wet, cock jutting up, flushed darker than his cheeks. And god, his expression is amazing. The way his eyes rake over Makoto’s body, glinting like sapphires, makes Makoto’s libido stir in response.

“From taking a shower?” he asks, voice only a little more high pitched than he intended.

Haru shakes his head. “From watching you piss.”

“W-what the fuck?” Makoto feels himself blushing harder than he has in a long time. Haru got this hard from watching him pee? When the hell had he gotten this perverted? Unwelcome thoughts of Haru masturbating to omorashi porn rush through his mind. Haru, watching porn. Makoto wonders what kind of porn he’s into (besides piss porn.) There’s so much about Haru that he just doesn’t know. Or has forgotten.

“I don’t know,” Haru admits, completely aloof. “It’s hot.”

“Please don’t ever ask me to pee on you,” Makoto squeaks. Which is embarrassing, because his voice is already rather high pitched and a tad on the nasally side, especially for somebody of his size and profession. He sounded like a prepubescent boy right there, and he hates it.

“It’s not like that,” Haru says. “That wouldn’t turn me on.”

“So...so…” Haru getting turned on by the shower would have made a lot more sense than this. “Why?”

Haru shrugs. “The noises you make. The way your water sounds. That your cock is out. I don’t know.” 

Makoto doesn’t miss that he called it “water” instead of “urine.” Or that Haru’s cock twitched when he was describing it. In a strange way, it’s exhilarating learning something new about him, finding out what his kinks are. Makoto might be able to find a way to use this. Beyond the sex tip, though, Makoto realizes that he’s craving simple conversation with the man he loves.

“I’m tired, Haru,” he says, “but if I help you take care of that now, will you do something for me tomorrow?”

Haru looks away. Makoto knows he’s considering it. “What will I have to do?”

“You have to go on a date with me. Out of the house.” Somewhere that Haru can’t distract him with sex.

“Okay,” Haru agrees. His eyes are fixed on Makoto’s rapidly expanding erection. Being stared at like that always seems to turn Makoto on. It’s one of his own kinks that he doesn’t know the root of.

“It’ll have to be early, before I go.”

“Yes,” Haru snaps, impatient. “Please fuck me already.”

As rude as ever, but Makoto can’t bring himself to care too much. “Turn around. Put your hands on the wall.”

Haru does exactly as instructed, sticking his ass out in Makoto’s direction. Makoto knows from experience that shower sex is harder and less satisfying than it seems, if one isn’t careful about it. He had slipped once in the middle of it and torn the shower curtain down as he fell, which did nothing to stop his head from hitting the floor so hard he’d tasted blood. Sousuke had been too busy doubled over with laughter to help him up, so he’d just stayed there in the spray from the shower until the stars faded from his vision. They’d ended up going to the movies instead.

Makoto reaches past Haru and turns the faucet back on. Luckily, the water’s still warm from before. Makoto spreads his legs apart, bracing himself against the sides of the tub, thighs flush with the back of Haru’s. He lets his cock rest against the cleft of Haru’s ass, leaning forward to kiss his back, running his hands over Haru’s chest.

His fingers find Haru’s nipples and he pinches them both at the same time, giving measured, deliberate thrusts with his hips into Haru’s relaxed backside. Water slides down Haru’s hair and back in sheets, running down around his ass and over Makoto’s penis, slicking everything with its warmth.

Haru moans, leaning back into Makoto’s groin, one hand leaving the wall so he can (presumably) touch his own cock.

“Don’t,” Makoto growls in his ear. “Your hands can’t leave the wall.”

He wants Haru’s first time in the shower to be far more pleasant than his own. Haru would probably sulk for days if he thought the water had betrayed him.

“They wouldn’t have to if you’d hurry up,” Haru says, splaying his hand on the wet shower wall again. What a demanding jerk. Makoto once again envisions fucking his mouth, and there, finally, with a rush of heat to his groin, he’s fully, achingly erect. He grinds even harder against Haru’s ass, feeling the heat radiate between them. Haru moans.

Understanding blooms in Makoto’s mind. “Haru, you like pissing me off when we fuck, don’t you.”

Haru’s breath catches and he stiffens minutely. And now everything makes sense, every one of their sexual encounters since that night at the love hotel. Haru’s a masochist. He likes being told what to do and made to do it. He likes being forced into submission. It’s a striking realization for Makoto. The Haru he’d know ten years ago had hated authority, hated being told what to do, and hated it when other people stuck their noses in his business. 

Makoto wants to test his new theory. “You like it. You’re such a dirty slut,” he whispers, nipping Haru’s ear. Haru shudders in the most pleasing way. He’s turning out to be incredibly kinky, recent virgin that he is.

“And you get turned on from watching me piss,” Makoto says, moving his hands down Haru’s body and stroking his cock, pressing his hips into Haru’s at the same time. “That’s disgusting.”

Haru whimpers, his thighs trembling against Makoto’s. Evidently, being told he’s dirty and disgusting gets him even more excited. Amazing. Makoto pulls back, sliding his hands over Haru’s ass, spreading him open and pressing an index finger against Haru’s entrance.

“Beg for it,” he says.

Haru twitches and clenches around nothing, Makoto’s finger not quite inside him. He groans. “Put it in, Makoto. Please.” 

Makoto plunges his finger all the way in, relishing the way Haru’s back arches. He thrusts his finger in and out, lightly nudging his sweet spot. He does this for several minutes, long after Haru’s stretched enough to take a second finger. He wants Haru to ask for it.

“Hands on the wall, Nanase,” Makoto barks, sensing Haru’s movement. Haru puts his hand back, fingertips scraping against the tiled surface. He jerks his ass back and forth on Makoto’s finger, but Makoto knows it isn’t anywhere near enough.

After a few more minutes, Haru seems to realize the futility of his efforts. “More,” he gasps.

“More what?” Makoto stops moving his finger, leaving it buried to the knuckle. The water rains down on them, splattering loudly against their skin.

“More fingers,” Haru moans. “More Makoto.”

Makoto presses his middle and ring fingers inside, slow enough to let Haru accomodate. 

“Harder,” Haru downright whines, squirming down on Makoto’s hand. “Fuck me!”

“God, you’re so fucking horny,” Makoto grunts, fingers slamming in and out, pumping Haru’s cock with his other hand. “You whore.”

Haru clenches tightly on Makoto’s fingers, lifting his head into the spray of water. Makoto instantly stops moving, causing Haru to tremble and cry out in frustration.

“Let me come! Please, Makoto, I need to come.”

Makoto’s only heard this much passion in Haru’s voice a few times, and none of them were in good situations. But this time Haru isn’t yelling at him, he’s crying for him, wanting him. It’s enough to drive Makoto mad with lust, lust and another emotion that he hasn’t felt this strongly before. At least, never during sex.

Makoto curls his fingers into Haru’s sweet spot, snaking his other hand up to grasp a handful of sodden black hair, forcing Haru to turn his head and meet his eyes.

“I love you,” Makoto says, using the sexiest, darkest voice he can. He thrusts his fingers, grinding them against Haru’s prostate.

Haru’s face turns the most brilliant shade of vermillion, his mouth falling open in shock, eyes shimmering for a short moment before they go glassy as orgasm rocks through his body. Makoto finger-fucks him through it, meeting his eyes dead on the whole time. 

Haru’s expression is completely erotic, electric with the passion he usually keeps such a tight lid on. He whimpers Makoto’s name as the last few shudders roll through him.

As Haru blinks water out of his lashes, eyes starting to come back into focus, Makoto traces his cheek with the back of his hand. He’s so in love he doesn’t know what to do with himself. All he can do is smile.

Haru reaches back to grasp Makoto’s wrist, removing his hand with a slick squelch. He turns to face Makoto, running his hands down Makoto’s chest as he kneels. Makoto threads both hands through Haru’s silky wet hair, enjoying the way Haru looks up at him, blinking away water droplets.

“I know you do,” Haru says, taking Makoto’s painfully hard cock in his fist and feeling up the underside with his tongue. Makoto leans against the wall for support, faint from the combination of arousal and exhaustion. As much as he’d like to make Haru live up to his promise, he’s already at his limit.

Makoto feels Haru’s hands slide up his thighs to brush the bottom of his ass, at the same time as Haru sucks his cock in his mouth, pausing briefly to lick the precum from his tip.  
It’s Makoto’s turn to moan. “I love you so much.” 

Why is it so much easier to say it during sex? His legs tremble violently as Haru traces his entrance, cautiously pushing in one long, nimble finger. Makoto jerks his hips forward involuntarily when Haru grazes his sweet spot, burying his erection even deeper down Haru’s throat, eliciting a rough gagging noise. Makoto tries to pull back, only to have his prostate scrape on Haru’s finger again. 

It’s too much. Blood rushes in his ears and the tight coil in his lower belly finally snaps. His entire body shivers as he orgasms, strengthening his vice grip on Haru’s hair. He hears Haru choke and gasp as shot after shot of come fills his mouth; Haru’s throat tightening around him feels so good, so hot; it milks every last drop out of him.

Makoto barely has the strength to hold himself upright anymore. He loosens his hold on Haru’s head. Haru pulls off of Makoto’s softening dick, a thick rope of come webbed between it and Haru’s lips. He licks it up before the shower water can wash it away, swallowing down the last of it. So sexy.

“Are you okay?” is all Makoto can think to say. His voice is shakier than he’d like it to be.

“Are you?” Haru ricochets, cocking an eyebrow. He gets to his feet, turning off the water. “My water bill is going to cost a fortune.”

And Makoto can’t help it. He giggles, leaning in to give Haru a sloppy kiss.

“You need to brush your teeth,” Haru says. “You taste like smoke.”

“So do you,” Makoto laughs. “You taste like come.”

Haru lets Makoto borrow his toothbrush while he towel dries his hair. Makoto watches him in the mirror while he brushes, grinning like an idiot. He’s too tired to dry his own hair, heading straight for bed once he’s rinsed out the sink, yawning. He crawls under the comforter, listening to the soft, slightly amusing sound of Haru gargling mouthwash.

“Sit up,” Haru says a few moments later, causing Makoto’s eyes to snap back open. Haru takes Makoto’s hand, helping him into a sitting position. He has a hand towel over his arm.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Haru informs him, kneeling on the bed behind him and draping the towel over his head. This time Makoto falls asleep against Haru’s chest as Haru gently pats his hair dry. His sleep is completely dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will include two dates- Makoto and Haru, and weirdly enough, Rin and Nagisa. I can't wait.
> 
> (P.S. I am multishipping trash. We can cry together at [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/))


	17. Cherry Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, so after making me watch you try on bathing suits for an hour, you’re expecting me to suck you off in public?” Haru grows even harder under Makoto’s glare.
> 
> “Yes,” Haru replies.
> 
> “You’re unbelievable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...don't really know what happened here. They were supposed to actually go swimming (oh my god, right?) Oh well. Enjoy some sex instead.

Nagisa sits in the bath, leg propped up against the wall, gliding the razor up his leg, wiping away shaving cream in stripes. The ankles and knees are the hardest spots to get. The bathroom door is wide open, the baby gate up at the end of the hallway so Mamiko has nowhere to go but the bathroom or the hall. Nagisa can’t see her, but he can hear her humming from around the corner.

He sighs when he gets to his thighs. He may as well shave his groin today, too. He wants to be completely smooth. Maybe he should schedule a brazilian later. He gets a half-off discount at work...but he doesn’t want any of his coworkers to see him naked. Especially the scars on his thighs. He knows they all know about his wrists by now, but...god, sometimes he feels so ugly. Usually he’s okay, but today he feels revolting. 

He hates how skinny his thighs are, and the angle of his hips. He wishes they were wider, fleshier, more feminine. His stomach is toned, abs and pecs prominent, instead of silky and soft. He hates his chest so much. And at the intersection of his legs...Nagisa’s hand trembles around the razor in his hand. He feels sick to his stomach.

“Daddy,” Mamiko calls.

“Ma-chan,” Nagisa says back, rinsing his hair. It’s probably time to get out.

“Daaddyyyy,” she wails.

Nagisa jumps out of the bath, nearly slipping, throwing on the first robe he grabs off the back of the door. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”  
Mamiko’s pushing against the baby gate, crying her head off. A doll lays on the floor on the other side.

“Hang on, I’ll get it for you.” He takes the gate down and hands the doll to Mamiko. She cries even louder.

After half an hour, Nagisa can’t figure out what she wants. She’s been screaming bloody murder the entire time.

Nagisa’s head hurts. He wishes he could call Rei and ask him to come home early from work. He could...Rei would come right away. But Nagisa doesn’t really feel like seeing Rei right now. Beautiful, perfect Rei-chan with his gorgeous body. 

He buries his nose in the neck of his robe, inhaling the scent deeply. Old Spice. He wishes he could cry like Mamiko is right now.

 

 

Sunny, shiny soda breeze  
The scent of sunshine  
Sends a thrill through my heart

Rin claws himself out of sleep, regretting it the moment he regains consciousness. He hurts, everywhere. His back and hips hurt, his ass hurts, and each spot where hot wax had been dripped on him stings horribly as the blanket rubs against him. What fucking time is it, anyway? There’s sunlight squeezing in through the blinds, so it must be day time, at least.

Sunny, shiny soda breeze  
The scent of sunshine  
Sends a thrill through my heart  
That’s something we share

His phone is ringing. Rin scrambles out of bed, trips over the blanket that’s still wrapped around his legs, and crawls to his pants, fishing his cellphone out of the pocket. Normally he’d just let it go to voicemail, but this ringtone means something special.

“Hey,” he croaks. “What’s up?”

The line is quiet for a second. Then, “I’m having a 911 moment.”

“You at home?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“O-okay.” The voice is subdued and shaky. “Thanks, Rinrin.”

“Just hang on.” Rin hangs up and hauls himself to his feet, searching hurriedly for his clothes.

“What was that about,” a deep voice from the bed asks. Sousuke’s stretched out on his stomach, head resting on his folded arms. He’s naked, the comforter lying in a heap on the floor where Rin had dragged it. Wow, he looks spectacular. Those glutes!

NO, he doesn’t have time for this. He also feels like he might actually be dying because every ache in his body was amplified by moving. He really wishes he hadn’t agreed to that second round. The first one had hurt bad enough. Fuck his competitiveness. 

“My friend’s having an emergency. Gotta go.”

Sousuke sighs, rolling onto his front and giving Rin an even more enticing view. “Coming back after?”

“Dunno,” Rin shrugs, tugging down his shirt. “Depends how long this takes. So...probably not.”

Sousuke stares at him, piercing turquoise. Rin pulls his boxers on, wishing he’d thought to bring a clean pair, wishing Sousuke would stop looking at him like that.

“What?”

“Come here,” Sousuke says, sitting up.

“I can’t, I gotta go. No wiggle room on this.”

Sousuke’s standing in front of him in the next instant. He’s...tall. And...NO. No. Rin avoids his gaze, concentrating on putting his pants on.

“Hey,” Sousuke sighs. “Don’t I get a proper goodbye?”

“Huh?” Now Rin might be blushing just a bit. He didn’t peg Sousuke as the romantic goodbye kiss kind of guy. Not that he’s going to complain. He rises up on his toes to meet Sousuke’s lips. It’s romantic for all of two seconds, until the fireworks go off and Sousuke’s squeezing his ass, shoving his tongue in Rin’s mouth. Rin reciprocates, twining his tongue around Sousuke’s, hands limp against his bare chest.

Sunny shiny soda breeze. Right. Rin pushes Sousuke away with a little growl. “No distraction techniques!”

“Sorry.” Sousuke doesn’t look sorry at all. He looks the most unsorry that it’s possible for a person to look, a smug, lazy grin curling across his face.

“I’ll text you,” Rin says, heading for the door. Hopefully his semi’ll go down before he gets to the train station. Track pants are not ideal for hiding erections. Sousuke doesn’t reply, but that’s fine. Rin can’t afford to have his mind changed right now.

 

Twenty minutes later, Rin stands in front of the door, ringing the bell for the second time. He hears high pitched crying from inside, and a jolt of fear courses through him. Fuck. He turns the doorknob and throws the door open to find Nagisa just on the other side, hand outstretched mid-way toward the door. His eyes widen.

“Sorry, Rinrin,” he says, somewhat more shyly than usual. He looks exhausted, dark shadows beneath his eyes, which are duller than usual. He’s wearing a fleecy, purple, butterfly patterned robe that must belong to Rei. Mamiko wails loudly in the background.

“You okay?”

Nagisa tugs at the sleeve of his robe. He does that when he’s stressed. “She won’t stop crying,” he says, a touch of mist in his eyes. “I’m so tired. And…”

Rin leaves his shoes at the entrance, following Mamiko’s voice. Better to get her settled down first before dealing with that ominous “and.” She’s sitting on the floor in the kitchen, face red and snotty, a doll with no clothes on it clutched in her hands. Even bawling, she’s ridiculously cute. Rin loves her.

“Oi, Ma-chan,” he says in an authoritative voice, shocking her out of her tantrum. She stares up at him as if she’s never seen him before, grip loosening on the doll. She hiccups once.

“Win.” Her golden pigtails flounce as she toddles to her feet, the source of her tears forgotten. She wraps her arms around his leg, burying her face against his knee and snuggling it, like a cat. Or a tiny Nagisa. 

“Yeah, come ‘ere, you little brat,” Rin says, picking her up. She giggles. If she weren’t only two, Rin might have thought he could hear a bit of demonic pride in it. He’s got to be imagining things, though.

Nagisa sits at the kitchen table, his cheek against the glass surface, arms over his head, watching them. He doesn’t look well.

“Let’s make your dad some coffee,” Rin tells Mamiko, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Bet he’d like that.”

Nagisa gives him a weak smile and a half-hearted thumbs up. He drinks two cups of coffee in silence, stirring in plenty of hazelnut flavoured coffee whitener and sugar. 

Rin takes Mamiko into the living room and plays dolls with her until Nagisa finally emerges, dressed, looking substantially more perky. He’s wearing pink skinny jeans and a white v-neck sweater, bangs pinned to the side with a heart-shaped barrette. 

“Thanks a bunch,” he says, sitting beside them on the floor and hugging his knees to his chest. He gazes at Mamiko with a bit of light returning to his expression.  
Rin props his chin in his hand, laying on his stomach with a horse doll in front of him. “No problem.”

He waits for Nagisa to tell him what the 911 call was about. Occurrences like this happened less and less frequently lately, but Rin took them as seriously as ever. Sometimes Nagisa burst into his arms crying, blubbering out the whole story the minute he saw him. Sometimes he’d be ready to speak after twenty minutes and an ice cream cone. And other times, he wouldn’t say anything at all, simply appreciating Rin’s company until he felt well enough to go on with his day. The 911 calls were only for when Nagisa really needed support- from someone other than Rei.

Nagisa tugs at a tuft of hair behind his ear, staring at one of the female dolls. Rin’s pretty sure he has an idea of what this is about, what Nagisa needs right now.

“You look cute today,” he says. It sounds stupid and hesitant coming out of his mouth, and he can’t look directly at Nagisa when he says it, but still, he means it.

“Cute,” Mamiko agrees, clacking two plastic figures together so violently that Rin’s surprised that their heads stay on.

Rin’s compliment may have been strained, but it’s done it’s job- Nagisa smiles. “Really? Do I really look cute?”

Rin groans inwardly. “Yeah. I wouldn’t lie. So uh…” Fuck, this is awkward.

“Rinrin?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go shopping today?”

Rin sighs, half because he’s relieved that Nagisa’s talking, and half because this is so damn weird. But Nagisa needs him, so he’ll do it. “For the 911 thing?”

Nagisa nods. 

“Sure. What’re we shopping for?”

“I...uhn, clothes.”

What the hell could clothes have to do with a Nagi911 call? Well, it sounds like a harmless enough task. Rin’s done far less savoury things for Nagisa. Some of them involved trips to the emergency room; they were the hardest. But the last one of those had been years ago.

“Cool,” Rin says, shifting into a sitting position. “Hear that, Ma-chan? Wanna come shopping?”

“Topping?” She studies him seriously for a moment before nodding. “I wanna!”

“You got it, little miss.” He wonders if Gou’s going to have a girl or a boy. “Hey, Nagisa, guess what?”

Nagisa startles out of his reverie. “What?”

“Gou’s pregnant.”

Nagisa’s eyes tighten a fraction, but he gives Rin a huge smile. “That’s amazing!! You’re gonna make a great uncle.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait. I’m gonna teach them how to swim.”

“I wanna twim,” Mamiko coos, handing Nagisa a doll with barely any hair left. 

“You wanna swim?!” Nagisa scoops her and the doll both into his arms, showering her little face with kisses as she giggles delightedly. “Maybe we’ll go tomorrow, ladybug.”  
Rin stands, wincing at how sore he still is. “We should get going, then. I’m freaking starving.”

“I could make something before we go.”

“No offense, but your cooking is terrible. Like, literally the worst. If you didn’t have Rei, you’d die.”

Nagisa laughs at that, carrying Mamiko to the hall closet to get her shoes. “True. So...um...we had a really long talk last night.”

Oh. He’s finally ready to talk. “Yeah? Did you guys fight?” That would explain why Nagisa looked so worn out earlier.

“No! It was good. He told me he thinks now would be a good time to adopt another kid, because-” Nagisa coughs and makes his voice deeper, more formal. His Rei imitations, which were pretty amazing to begin with, have only improved since his voice changed. “There are many developmental benefits for children who have siblings similar in age-” 

He drops the voice. “-blah blah blah something. I kinda stopped listening. I mean, my siblings suck. But Rei’s an only child and he’s kind of a total screwball, so I guess he’s probably right.”

“You’re both pretty weird. I don’t think siblings have anything to do with it.” Rin watches Nagisa do up the velcro on Mamiko’s tiny pink sneakers.

“Hey, that’s rude!” Nagisa says in mock offense. “But being normal would be so boring.”

“You’re definitely not boring,” Rin assures him. “Rei, on the other hand-”

“Rei is NOT boring,” Nagisa insists. “Trust me.”

“I guess he has his moments. But seriously, an investment banker? Doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“Rei-chan is my thing, no matter what he does.”

Rin grins, because that’s pretty cute. He takes one of Mamiko’s hands while Nagisa holds the other, and they start toward the train station. Rin doesn’t care if people stare; he meets each funny look they receive with his own feral glare.

“So how do you feel about the second kid thing?” Rin can’t quite figure out what the issue is, but he can sense he’s getting close.

“I’m okay with it. I’m really happy, actually.” Mamiko’s singing a song to herself, eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of her. Nagisa looks down at her with the biggest smile, eyes shining with adoration, and Rin believes him. “I want another baby. I’m just...I...I’m sad because…”

Rin waits patiently for him to continue.

“I wish I could make a baby,” he whispers, voice so full of longing that it makes Rin’s heart twinge. That explains why he suddenly wants to go shopping. 

“Nagisa…”

“I know, I’m so lucky because I have Rei and Mamiko and we can adopt another one, I’m really grateful for it, and I haven’t felt sad this way in a long time, I promise.” Nagisa curls his free hand against his heart. “You have no idea what it’s like to feel like you’re in the wrong body. Like you were born...I dunno, broken or something.”

Nagisa’s right- Rin doesn’t know. He’s always been fairly confident with his body, and he’s definitely never wanted to be a woman or produce babies. But it doesn’t mean he can’t try his best to understand, and it doesn’t mean he can’t listen without judgement. He could tell Nagisa that he isn’t broken, that he’s perfect the way he is, but Rin’s pretty sure he gets enough of that from Rei, and it isn’t what he needs right now. Rin’s familiar with the whole “tragically misunderstood” feeling.

“It’s kinda funny.”

Nagisa glances at him. “What is?”

“If you were a girl, you probably wouldn’t be with Rei. You know girls scare the shit out of him.”

“That’s true,” Nagisa snickers. “But he does like it when I dress as one.”

“So this is for him?”

“Partly. And partly for me. I wanted somebody to come with me for...opinions.”

Rin groans. “Come on, Nagisa, don’t make me do this.”

“Pleeeease? I’d bring Rei, but I want it to be a surprise. Plus, even though he’s all about beauty and stuff, he picks the weirdest colour combinations! He’s terrible at shopping.”

“And I’m good at it?”

“Well, yeah. You always get the best birthday gifts for people.”

The compliment shouldn’t work that well, but it does. “Fine. I’ll help you.”

Nagisa beams at him, picking Mamiko up as they get on the train. “Thanks, Rinrin. That’s why you’re the best!”

“I am pretty awesome.”

“Geez, look who’s all self-confident today,” Nagisa says coyly. “Does it have something to do with that sexy guitar player?”

Rin looks out the window so Nagisa can’t see his face. “Sousuke.”

“Oh my god.” Nagisa covers Mamiko’s ears, as if she has any idea what they’re talking about. She hums and keeps trying to pluck the button off of her sweater. “You said you weren’t screwing him!”

“I wasn’t...until last night.”

Nagisa makes a tiny squeaky sound in his throat. “How was it? Tell me everything!”

This is a terrible idea; Rin knows this, but on the other hand, it would be nice having somebody to talk to about it. And Nagisa’s experienced.

“Fine, but we’re still on 911 time. If you tell a single soul, even Rei, I will personally see to your demise, you little shit.”

“I won’t tell,” Nagisa sings in pure glee. “Girl talk!”

“This is not girl talk!” Rin snaps.

“Okay, uke talk-”

“Oh my god, Nagisa, shut up!” Is his role that freaking obvious? Lord, this is already a mistake.

“Sorry, sorry. So...how was it?”

“Honestly...it was…” How to put this. “At first it was shitty. Really shitty. If...if you know what I mean. I was worried I was gonna...you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nagisa says, patting Rin’s shoulder. “Sometimes it happens.”

“I don’t really know what I was fucking expecting. Nobody ever tells you it feels like you’re taking a massive dump.” He keeps his voice low, just in case anybody’s listening to their conversation. Mamiko continues onto her second button in blissful ignorance.

“But it feels amazing once you find your G,” Nagisa sighs dreamily. 

Rin coughs. He’s not replying to that.

Nagisa tilts his head to the side. “So you didn’t come?”

Huh? “Yeah, I did. Took a while, though.”

“Seriously?!” Why is there so much shock in his voice? “It took me weeks of trying to come like that. It hurt like a bitch!”

“Yeah, well Sousuke’s not a sixteen year old virgin. He knows what he’s doing.” It had nothing to do with Rin’s masochistic tendencies. Nothing at all.

Nagisa has his wicked, curious expression on. “Did he jerk you off at the same time?”

This conversation is getting out of hand, and Rin can’t keep his face from flushing. “No.”

“WHAT?”

“Keep your voice down, dammit.”

He lowers it. Barely. “I STILL can’t get Rei to come just from behind, and it’s not like I don’t know exactly where his-”

“Shut up!” He does not need that image in his head. He never, ever, needed to know that. Ever. But at the same time, he feels an odd surge of pride at how skilled Sousuke obviously is in bed. And the fact that Rei and Nagisa take turns being bottom is certainly an interesting one. It gives Rin ideas.

“Daddy,” Mamiko says. “I hunry.” She spits a button out of her mouth. The other one is missing. To his credit, Nagisa’s freakout it milder than it could have been, considering Mamiko could have choked. It’s definitely less serious than Rei’s would have been. He’d probably have a stroke if he found out. 

They spend the rest of the train ride paying careful attention to Mamiko.

 

 

Their date is not going well. At least, not for Makoto. He sits on the bench in front of the fitting rooms, waiting for Haru to emerge again. Normally he’d enjoy a situation where he got to view Haru in various states of undress, but today it’s just irritating. Haru’s so fucking attractive, but they can’t very well have sex in the middle of the store. Or can they? Makoto could fit in the change room stall with him...he shakes that idea out of his head. It would not end well, and he’s not a horny teenager who can’t control himself.

He honestly isn’t. Except that all he wants to do is go outside and light a cigarette. Or fuck Haru. One of the two. But he can’t do either, and he’s getting awfully restless sitting here. They had only meant to stop at the mall and grab a cheap pair of swimming trunks for Makoto, since he didn’t have any and Haru insisted that they go to the beach for their date. It’d taken him five minutes to choose a pair of orange ones and try them on.

Then Haru had found the sports section, and was currently trying on as many swimsuits as he could get his hands on, even though he already had six. Six. Makoto counted them before they left Haru’s place that morning.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, clawing at the thigh of his jeans. This fucking sucks. 

“Mako-chan!”

Makoto turns toward the voice to see Nagisa running at him, Rin pushing a shopping cart behind him with Mamiko twisting around in the seat to see.

“What are you doing here?” It comes out less graciously than he intended.

“Shopping. Duh. What are you doing here?”

“Haru’s trying on swimsuits.”

Rin snorts. “Geez, did you guys fall into a time warp?”

Haru opens the curtain of the change room, stepping out in a form fitting swimsuit, every fresh bruise and love bite on his chest and neck exposed. “No,” he says bluntly.

“Holy shit,” Rin chokes out.

“Don’t stare at me.”

“Put a shirt on, then.” 

Nagisa’s holding his sides, giggling his head off. “Oh my god, Haru-chan, you look like you fell in the octopus tank at the aquarium.”

“You aren’t allowed to swim in those,” Haru says, sounding a tad despondent.

Makoto smacks his palm against his forehead. He can feel a migraine coming on. “Are you done, Haru? Can we go?”

“No. This one’s wrong, too.”

Makoto bites back a swear. “Just...hurry up.”

“Wow, who pissed in your cereal this morning, Mako-chan?” Nagisa asks.

Haru answers for him. “He’s quitting smoking.”

“Could we please not mention it? It’s like you’re trying to make this harder for me.” 

“Smoking,” Mamiko pronounces perfectly, squirming in her seat. 

Makoto rubs his eyes vigorously, hard enough to see spots. When he opens them again, Haru’s retreated back into his cubicle.

“Okay, grouch bag,” Nagisa sings, grabbing an armload of clothes out of the cart. “I’m gonna go try stuff on. Be good, Ma-chan!” He disappears behind a swoosh of red curtain. 

Makoto leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, letting his head hang.

“You look like crap,” Rin says, oh-so-helpfully, bringing over Mamiko to sit on the bench next to Makoto.

“I’m sooo tired, and I can’t stop thinking about cigarettes,” Makoto whines.

Rin smirks. “Yeah, looks like you had a busy night.”

“Kyojin!” Mamiko shrieks. She’s adorable, but not helping with the headache situation.

Makoto gives her a smile. “Hi. I like your shoes.”

She shoves her hand in her mouth, chewing on her fingers and staring at him. “Kyojin.”

“How does she even know that word?” Rin asks. 

Makoto shrugs. “So what are you doing here with Nagisa?”

“It’s a long story. Cheering him up, mostly. And watching this little brat.” He says the last word as if it’s a term of endearment, gently tugging one of Mamiko’s pigtails and making her smile up at him. 

“I didn’t know you were a babysitter.”

“Not a very good one. She ate a button on the way here.”

“God, is there anything you’re good at?”

“I’m a pretty good singer,” Rin jokes. “Thinking about starting a band. Rock with kind of a screamo thing going on.”

Makoto snorts. He’s heard Rin sing before. He’s actually quite good, but his voice had been shocking, considering how deep it is normally. “Your singing voice is so high. All you’d be good for is pop.”

Rin wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I’d rather die.”

“I would, too,” Makoto says, glad to have a distraction. Craving still dominates the back of his mind, though. “I’m still surprised to see you here. How did things go with Sou?”

Rin suddenly becomes interested in fixing one of Mamiko’s pigtails. “Pretty good. Stayed the night.”

“Yeah? Wait, so you ditched him this morning to hang out with Nagisa?”

“I didn’t DITCH him. It was important. Why, did he say something?”

Makoto smiles. “He just texted me this morning telling me he was bored. That’s all.” That definitely wasn’t all, but Makoto’s not about to share the full conversation with Rin. He’d be pissed.

Rin looks the teeniest bit guilty. “I should apologize properly later. I’m not gonna see him before you guys leave.”

“I think it’s good for him.”

“Huh?”

“I told you Sou’s a great guy, and I meant it, but I think it’s good for him to be kept waiting sometimes. He’s too used to getting his own way. He acts like a spoiled rich kid most of the time.” Honestly, Makoto thinks Rin might be perfect for Sousuke. He won’t give in to him over everything. He’ll put up a fight.  
Rin raises an eyebrow. “Do I sense a hint of resentment?”

“That’s...maybe. We didn’t start off on the best terms. I guess I’m just remembering it.” Thinking about it makes him anxious, and being anxious makes him crave a cigarette even worse. It’s all he can think about.

“How’d you guys...get started, anyway?”

Why did he have to ask this now, of all places, with Haru only a thin curtain away? “I don’t want to fucking talk about it right now."

Rin punches his arm, hard enough to hurt a little. “Don’t have to be such an ass, y’know?”

“I’m sorry,” Makoto says, swallowing. His mouth feels particularly dry. 

“It’s fine. I helped Nagisa through this, too. And let me tell you, cocaine withdrawal is a thousand times worse.”

“I can hear you,” Nagisa calls. Then he shoves aside the curtain and comes out, causing Makoto’s jaw to drop. 

He’s wearing a short, sleeveless, canary yellow dress that shows off his smooth pale legs and arms. With his gold hair pinned back out of his eyes, he looks incredibly feminine. Makoto might have mistaken him for a girl, at first glance. Nagisa fidgets with the hem of the dress, and Makoto sees the scars on his wrists for the first time. It hurts to look at them.

“I...I have to get some bracelets or something to cover these up,” Nagisa says shyly, tracing one scar with his fingertip.

“You look beautiful,” Rin tells him, despite his embarrassed scowl. “I don’t think you need anything else.”

“Daddy!” Mamiko yells, squirming off of Rin’s lap to hug her father’s leg. “Daddy’s pretty.”

“Wow,” Makoto breathes. 

Nagisa smiles, patting Mamiko’s head as his eyes settle on Makoto. “You’ve never seen me cross-dress before.”

“Rin’s right. You look amazing.”

“Thanks, Mako-chan.” Nagisa’s cheeks turn a pleasing pink shade. “Do you think Rei will like it? I mean, he says I’m beautiful no matter what I wear, but do you think he’ll like, really like it?”

Rin leans back on the bench, grinning. “Coming from the one guy here who actually likes girls, you look sexy, Nagisa. I promise he’s gonna wanna do you.”

“Good! I want him to...to…” Nagisa’s eyes flick toward Makoto, and he hesitates before continuing. “To pretend to get me pregnant. In it. Please don’t judge me, Mako-chan!”

“Makoto has no space to judge anyone’s fetishes,” comes Haru’s muffled voice from the next cubicle over.

“Shut up, Haru, or I’ll tell everyone about yours,” Makoto says. God, does he really sound that bitchy?

“Go ahead,” Haru retorts, coming out to show off the incriminating evidence stamped all over his body and a swimsuit that looks exactly the same as the last one. “Nagisa already knows about the jam.”

Makoto hides his face behind his hands. Oh, god. Haru could still call his bluffs, every time.

“What jam,” Nagisa asks curiously. “The jam you were eating that day in the tub?”

Haru had been eating it in the bath? But he never brought food in there. Haru just shrugs.

“Wait,” Rin growls. “You gave me jam the other day. Was it the same jam? What the HELL did you guys do to the jam?! If I get an STI from you I swear to god I’ll-”

“JAM!” Mamiko squeals. Makoto wishes he could die just by willing it.

Nagisa laughs, picking up his daughter. “You can’t get them that way.”

“If you get an STI it’ll be from Sousuke,” Makoto snaps. He’s had it with this discussion, with all these loud people, with Haru’s ridiculous swimsuit collection. “I’m going home.”

As he turns to leave, already calculating the closest place to buy a pack of smokes, he feels chilly fingers close around his wrist.

“What,” he spits, turning around. Haru doesn’t let go, instead dragging him into the change room with him.

“You,” Haru says quietly, coolly, “need to calm down.”

“I can’t,” Makoto hisses. “I’m exhausted and I’m tired of fucking waiting for you. I never wanted to come here in the first-”

Haru cuts him off with a kiss, pulling Makoto’s hand down to cup the front of his swimsuit. Makoto can feel the beginnings of an erection swell beneath his fingers. He pulls away. 

“We can’t do this here, Haru, it’s-” But Haru’s grinding his hips against Makoto’s hand now, kissing his throat, groaning delicately in his ear.

“You should keep your mouth busy,” Haru says in a husky voice.

“Oh, so after making me watch you try on bathing suits for an hour, you’re expecting me to suck you off in public?” Haru grows even harder under Makoto’s glare.

“Yes,” Haru replies.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re being an asshole,” Haru says, placing both hands on Makoto’s shoulders and applying pressure. Makoto slowly sinks to his knees, surrendering. 

He does admire the way the swimsuit highlights Haru’s erection and clings to his hips and thighs tightly, showing off every muscle. And Haru’s skin is so silky...Makoto feels up the backs of his thighs, tilting his head back to meet Haru’s eyes.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he murmurs, kissing the bulge at Haru’s crotch.

Haru rakes his fingers through Makoto’s hair, making him sigh. He loves having his hair played with, and Haru’s fingers are so long and nimble, almost dainty. 

“It turns me on when you’re mean,” Haru says. 

“Why?” Makoto wraps his arms around Haru’s hips, pressing his cheek against Haru’s erection. He suddenly feels emotional. It’s fucked up that Haru likes being bullied. What the hell happened to him?

“Because,” Haru whispers. “You were always so infuriatingly content with everything. When we had that fight, it was the first time you’d ever yelled at me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I ran. I spent the next ten years thinking about it; I wanted you to yell at me again, I wanted you to come home and tell me exactly how you felt about me.”

Makoto feels pressure prickle at the back of his eyes. “Haru...you can’t think anger isn’t the only thing I feel toward you.”

“I don’t.” Haru tugs his hair, pushing his hips against Makoto’s face. “Show me how you feel.”

“I’m trying to have a nice moment with you,” Makoto sighs. “Blow jobs aren’t very romantic.”

The corners of Haru’s mouth twitch, dangerously close to a grin. “We’re in a fitting room at a department store.”

Makoto swallows. He’d forgotten about that for a minute. He licks his lips.

“People can hear us if we’re too loud,” Haru comments nonchalantly. 

Makoto suddenly wants to make him moan so loud the whole store hears. He slips his fingers under the fabric of Haru’s swimsuit, reaching up higher on his thighs.

“You,” he says, kissing the top of Haru’s hip where it juts up out of his attire, “are so fucking naughty.”

Haru shivers when Makoto nips him, sucking a dark bruise onto his skin. “Only for you.” His grip tightens on Makoto’s hair, making him groan himself.

Makoto continues to leave a row of messy love bites all over Haru’s lower belly, brushing his clothed cock as often as possible. Haru moves his hips, grinding himself against Makoto’s chest, his breathing erratic. Makoto takes his time slowly peeling down the swimsuit an inch at a time, trailing kisses and gentle nips down across his hipbones, licking the place just above Haru’s erection. He doesn’t uncover it yet.

“You’re going to have to buy this one now,” Makoto murmurs into Haru’s skin, stroking the wet spot on the front of the swimsuit. “It’s all dirty.”  
Haru releases a subdued moan in the back of his throat.

“It’s dirty with your wet, Haru,” Makoto smiles, stroking harder through the fabric. “It’s filthy. Just like you.”

Haru presses a fist to his lips, stifling his lusty groan. Makoto’s still ecstatic at the fact that Haru’s such a loud lover, despite his hatred of speaking in regular situations. It’s so surprising, and sexy as fuck. Makoto runs his hands over Haru’s toned stomach, splaying them at his sides so he can thumb both of Haru’s nipples at once, pressing his mouth over his bulge. Haru shudders, gasping behind his hand. 

Makoto pulls back to look at Haru’s face, smiling up at him. “You like having your nipples touched in public?” His own cock twitches in his pants at Haru’s hitched breath.

“Yes,” Haru moans. His cheeks are flushed pink, a most sultry expression adorning his face as he looks down on Makoto. 

“Everyone can hear you, Haru.”

Haru rocks his hips back and and forth against the cubicle partition. “Suck me, Makoto.”

Makoto tugs the swimsuit down to Haru’s thighs, letting his magnificently erect cock spring free. The tip glistens with precum. It looks exquisite.

 

Haru’s beginning to suspect that doing it in public is one of Makoto’s fetishes. It might even be turning into one of his own. He definitely likes the way Makoto’s staring at his cock, eyes hooded and dark, that pleasant smile on his face taking a sexy, confident edge. Why hadn’t he asked for a blow job before this? He does love it when Makoto eats him out, but he doesn’t get to watch his face. Haru’s starting to understand why Makoto enjoys fucking his mouth so much.

“Makoto, please.”

Makoto glances up at him, stroking his fingers up the underside of Haru’s erection, making him shiver. He wants to come so bad already. He pinches his own nipples, sending jolts of electricity to his groin, hoping he can make Makoto snap.

“Ah…” He’s really not trying to be so loud. Nagisa and Rin will be able to hear if he doesn’t keep it down. 

Makoto wraps his hand around Haru’s base, pumping up and down his length, making more precum leak out. His gaze is glassy as he swipes the beading wet off with his tongue, pressing a light kiss on Haru’s tip.

Haru trembles the sensation, biting down on his fist to keep quiet, trying not to buck his hips the way he wants to. 

Makoto pins him flat against the wall with one strong hand, swirling his tongue over Haru’s cock. When he pulls back, a thread of precum stretches between them, shimmering on Makoto’s lips. He licks it off with his tongue, slowly, teasingly. Haru struggles under his hand, but Makoto’s too strong for him.

“Suck me,” Haru gasps. “Please do it.”

Makoto feigns surprise, emerald eyes widening. “I thought you wanted me to be mean.”

Haru sighs, frustrated and horny. He twines his fingers through Makoto’s hair and pulls sharply. This time Makoto’s eyes widen for real and his cheeks flush. Haru’s proud of himself for knowing how to turn Makoto on.

“I want you to suck me,” Haru demands. If Makoto can do it, he can do it, too.

Makoto smiles, eyes lidded. He looks even more devious than Nagisa. “Okay, Haru.” He forms his mouth into a tight ring, pushing down on Haru’s cock at a tantalizing pace. His mouth is hot and wet and tight, tongue flicking back and forth over Haru’s slit.

He can’t stop the reedy cry that escapes his lips. Makoto reaches up and presses his hand over Haru’s mouth, looking up at him, crammed full of Haru’s cock. He sits still like that, not moving, until Haru can’t stand it. He squirms and rocks against Makoto’s hand, which is still on his hip, keeping him still. He licks the fingers covering his mouth.

Makoto suddenly bobs his head forward, taking in even more of Haru and then pulling back so he’s almost free, only to push forward and take him in again, so deep he’s almost to the base. At the same time, he traces Haru’s lips with his finger.

As soon as Haru opens his mouth to moan, Makoto shoves his finger inside. Haru clamps down on it with his lips and sucks, trying to keep himself quiet. As Makoto continues to suck him off, alternating between deep throating him and pulling off to lick and suck at the underside of his cock, Haru replicates his actions on Makoto’s finger. When he moans, it’s muffled and wet against Makoto’s hand.

Finally he feels his thighs start to shake, heat flooding deep in his belly, and he tightens his hold on Makoto’s hair to keep him there, giving no other warning before he comes. He shudders and trembles, biting down on Makoto’s finger to the effect that he whimpers through his orgasm, Makoto releasing his thigh and using his hand to pump Haru’s cock as he focuses on sucking and licking the tip.

Makoto shows him the come on his tongue before swallowing it and wiping his mouth, one eye closed. “Barely any. But I’m amazed you had any left at all, after last night.”

Haru strips of the dirtied swimsuit and uses it to wipe himself clean. “I guess I do have to get this one.” Even though it didn’t fit quite right. He can’t very well put it back on the rack.

“So we can finally go?” Makoto asks, standing and adjusting his jeans. Haru can see his erection through them. 

“Yes.” He’ll have to take care of Makoto later. Maybe once they get to the beach.

“Thank god,” Makoto says, slipping out of the change room. Haru dresses quickly and follows him. 

Makoto’s sitting on the bench, looking at his phone. Rin, Nagisa, and Mamiko are gone.

“Rin texted me,” Makoto tells him. “They went to the food court. Do you want to go meet them, or do you want to get going? We don’t really have time for both.”

Haru thinks for a moment, studying Makoto’s face. He shrugs. “What do you want to do?”

“Me?”

“Yes. What do you want?”

Makoto shifts anxiously, as if he’s nervous about displeasing Haru by picking the wrong thing. “I want to go meet them. I should apologize for being a jerk earlier.”

Haru nods. They can go to the beach another time. “You should. You were awful.”

“About as rude as you on a regular day,” Makoto says, smiling happily.

Maybe Haru won’t get to pay Makoto back sexually before he leaves, but he can at least buy him a crepe. And crepes are a pretty damn good substitute.

It doesn’t take them long to pay for their swimwear (thanking god for the self-checkout option) and spot Rin and Nagisa sitting at a table in the food court. Nagisa’s still wearing the yellow dress but has his sweater over top of it now, so it looks more like a skirt. He has Mamiko in his lap and is feeding her french fries. Rin shovels udon into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“Feeling better?” Rin asks sarcastically as they approach, swallowing his mouthful of food.

Nagisa giggles. “Your hair is a mess, Mako-chan.”

Haru notices now that Makoto’s hair is indeed a mess, tousled and sticking up at odd angles. Makoto pats it down, cheeks faintly pink. It’s a little less obvious, but he won’t be able to fix it without-

“A comb,” Nagisa says, producing one out of nowhere. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Makoto runs it quickly through his hair and hands it back.

“You can keep it. I have like, ten.”

Rin snorts. “Why do you carry around ten combs?”

“In case people need them,” Nagisa replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“It was very helpful, Nagisa. Thank you,” Makoto says, taking a seat. He does seem more relaxed now, which is odd, since he wasn’t even the one who’d gotten off. Haru slips into the chair next to him, resting his hand on Makoto’s thigh.

Nagisa gives Mamiko another fry, a loopy grin on his face. “Remember when we took Rei shopping for his first swimsuit?”

“And he tried on that hideous butterfly one?” Makoto says, smiling. Haru cautiously moves his hand toward Makoto’s crotch, staring at Nagisa’s red plastic food tray. Makoto shifts, opening his thighs more.

“I thought he looked good in it,” Nagisa titters. “It showed off his ass so well, and it was just so...Rei!”

“Was that the day I ran into you guys?” Rin asks.

“Yeah. It sucks that you missed it; it was so funny. And he tried on these hilarious rainbow striped ones because…” Nagisa thinks hard, trying to remember the reason.

Haru remembers. “Because of the psychological benefits.” He presses his hand over Makoto’s erection, grinding against it with his palm. He hears Makoto’s breath hitch, because he’s listening for it, but the noise of the other food court patrons covers it from Rin and Nagisa.

“Oh god,” Rin laughs. “I can just imagine that. Good thing you didn’t let him buy those.”

Makoto’s voice barely sounds strained at all. “Did you really have a crush on him all the way back then?” Haru squeezes him tighter and then feels Makoto’s hand over his wrist, guiding him and urging him on.

Nagisa blushes. “Yeah. It was totally embarrassing. I never thought he’d ever like me back.”

“You guys are sickeningly cute,” Rin says, pretending he’s disgusted when everyone knows he isn’t.

Nagisa puffs out his cheeks, releasing the air slowly. “I miss him.”

“It does feel strange not having him here,” Makoto agrees, voice hitching at the end when Haru picks up the pace of his rubbing. He chances a quick glance to see Makoto’s face flushed, mouth trembling as he fights to keep quiet.

“Or else we’d have the old team back together,” Haru says as flatly as possible. This is the most fun he’s ever had shopping.

“And me,” Rin quips.

“And Rinrin,” Nagisa says, eyes lidded mischievously. “My favourite, dearest friend…”

“What do you want?”

Nagisa sits up straight, reaching across the table to clasp Rin’s hand. “I was thinking...since you have the day off…”

“...What.”

“Could you watch Mamiko for an hour? Pretty please? I really wanna go surprise Rei at work.”

Makoto clutches the edge of the table as Haru works him, breath shaky. If Rin and Nagisa were paying attention at all, they’d catch on immediately. The danger of that happening only seems to make Makoto hotter. He’s responding to Haru’s friction like a teenager, thrusting his hips slightly against his hand, careful that the rest of his body remains stationary and natural.

“You mean you wanna go fuck him in his office,” Rin says, exasperated. “Didn’t he yell at you last time you tried that?”

“Yeah,” Nagisa answers, not at all discouraged. “But this time I’m gonna try harder.”

Makoto rests his elbow on the table, leaning his forehead against his hand to shield his face from the others. Haru can sense that he’s close.

“Are you okay, Mako-chan?”

“Yeah,” Makoto chokes out. “Just...cravings. I’ll be...hah...fine…”

“Think about something else,” Haru advises, finally looking right at him. Makoto covers his face with both hands and tenses, releasing a sharp gasp. Haru feels a wet spot spread across the front of his jeans.

“Geez,” Nagisa laughs. “You don’t have to be so dramatic. It’s just nicotine.”

“Sorry,” Makoto says weakly. “But it still sucks.”

“Wait ‘til you get to day three. Ugh, and the constipation! I didn’t poop for like a week.”

“That’s...so gross,” Makoto replies, pulling out his phone. He’s clearly not listening as Nagisa continues to babble about a variety of unsavoury withdrawal symptoms. A few seconds later, Haru feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He would normally ignore it, but he suspects it’s from Makoto.

 

Makoto (12:29): i can not believe you just did that to me in front of a BABY.

Outbox (12:29): you seemed to like it

Makoto (12:30): you’re a terrible human being. i love you :)

 

“-and puking, HEY, are you guys seriously texting each other? You’re sitting right freaking here!”

Haru suppresses his smile, sliding his phone in his pocket before Nagisa can read over his shoulder. 

Rin finishes his food, dropping his chopsticks with a clatter. “Okay, well if you guys are all done acting like babies, I’m gonna take the actual baby here-” he lifts Mamiko out of her seat- “and go. We’re gonna have a great time while daddy’s busy, right?”

Mamiko nods, chewing thoughtfully on her fry. Nagisa stands to kiss her head, his dress and legs fully visible.

“My god,” somebody nearby says, voice laced with disgust. “Look at the cross-dresser.”

“What did you just say,” Rin snarls, at the same time as Haru asks what they’re looking at in his frostiest voice. Makoto rises to his feet, folding his arms across his chest, forgetting about the wet spot on his pants. It doesn’t diminish from his height or build, though. The offender, a balding, middle-aged man, takes one look at them and turns tail.  
The people at the table next to them start to clap. “Well done,” an older woman says. “That’ll teach him. And son?”

Nagisa turns to look at her, pink in the face. 

“You look lovely, darling.”

“Thank you,” Nagisa answers, pleased as punch, offering her a little curtsy. “And I have amazing friends.”

Mamiko shrieks a laugh and claps her hands, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter completely weird? I'm sorry. Hahahaha. For you ReiGisa fans out there, the next chapter shall be a lot more screwbally.
> 
> Also, can we talk about Mamoru Miyano's (Rin's) voice for a sec? Oh god, sing for me, you angel of music!!! (Said in my best Phantom of the Opera voice.) That freaking magical song bird.
> 
> Always willing to chat at [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	18. Baby Love Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry I don’t have an appointment,” Nagisa pouts at him, fluttering his lashes.
> 
> Rei snatches his hand out of his desk drawer and fixes his tie, desperately trying to string together a response. A witty one, preferably, but Rei has never been known for his pithy remarks. Seriously, at this point, any words will do. 
> 
> “I...um...I-I think I can pencil you in,” he mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is to make up for how things are currently going in This Is The Best. The long awaited (by me, anyway) Reigisa smut!!
> 
> This is honestly the cheesiest thing I've ever written in my life. I'm serious. It's cheesier than a stuffed crust pizza. I'm warning you now. The chapter title is from the Pizzicato Five song.
> 
> Please try to enjoy my attempt at lovey-dovey fluffy sex.
> 
> *runs away and hides*

Rei had long ago come to the conclusion that computers had been invented solely to test his intelligence. On most days, he considers himself a smart person. Extremely smart, actually. This particular day, however, has him doubting his abilities worse than learning to swim had.

“I clicked it, it’s not there,” he says into the receiver of his work phone.

“Are you sure you’re looking at the clipboard,” asks the grainy voice on the other end. It’s several degrees more condescending than he’d like it to be.

“Yes. As I’ve mentioned before, it isn’t there.”

“...Are you sure you saved it?”

Honestly. “Yes, I saved it. I think I know enough to save a document before I exit it. I saved it, and when I went back to attach it to the email, it was gone.”

Computers are supposed to make sense. They are built to be logical, efficient machines. Rei had been absolutely thrilled when he’d gotten his first laptop- computers sounded like the epitome of everything he stood for.

Except it all turned out to be a lie. Computers did not make sense. One day it would do as told, and the next day, after doing the exact same thing, it wouldn’t. For no apparent reason. As well as Rei had always done with math and chemistry, computers and their coded mysteries were completely beyond him, frustrating his every effort to have his client portfolios done on time.

“...It’s got to be somewhere, sir.”

Rei rubs the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “By all means, send someone up here to find it.” And then, because he’s nothing if not polite: “Please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sighing, Rei places the receiver back on its base. The IT department usually takes ages to send someone, so he isn’t going to bank his hopes on that. He’s lost an entire morning worth of work, and is starting to feel...irritated. Pulling a fountain pen and notepad out of his desk, Rei sets about recopying the information. This way he can print out the rest of the stock information and send the portfolio over by fax. Well, his secretary can. Rei isn’t in the mood to try his hand at the fax machine today. The screeching sound it makes is not beautiful.

But his handwriting is, he observes, sitting back to admire the first sentence written in neat, graceful kanji. Calligraphy has always been one of his passions. Rei smiles, encouraged by his own talent, and glances at the picture frame to his left. Photographs are another one of the things he’s dubious about trusting the computer with, ever since he’d accidentally reformatted his camera and lost all the pictures of Nagisa’s seventeenth birthday. 

Everyone else in the office had picture slideshows as their computer screensavers, but Rei remained old-fashioned, preferring to print his special photos off at the drugstore and put them in carefully selected frames that suited the mood of each picture. The wedding photo on the right of his keyboard is framed in silver, and the one of his mother in teak. 

Rei’s favourite picture, the one that cheers him the most when he’s sad, sits in a simple white frame, decorated with ladybug stickers and glitter glue. The photograph inside is from last Hallowe’en- Nagisa’s dressed as a zookeeper in tan shirt and shorts, an impossibly huge smile on his face as he hugs Mamiko to his chest. Mamiko had been so small then, bundled into her tiny, chubby penguin costume, wide-eyed and giggling at all the decorations. That girl had definitely inherited the Hazuki penchant for the occult.

“Ryuugazaki-san, someone’s here to see you,” comes his secretary’s voice over the intercom, causing him to jolt and scribble a long, unattractive line over the page. Dang it. Well, at least the IT guys had been quicker than usual.

Rei leans over to press an inky finger against the PA button. “Send them in, please.” He must have some extra wet wipes in his desk somewhere. He’s busy searching his top drawer for them, hardly registering when the door clunks open and shut again. The click of the lock, however, is not expected.

“Ryuugazaki-san,” a familiar voice drawls, low, sexy.

“Nagisa-kun, you know how I feel about-” Rei freezes when he catches sight of his husband, hand still resting inside the drawer. Nagisa always looks good, even on a bad day- he’s one of those people who can pull off the ruffled, just-rolled-out-of-bed look, which works to his benefit most days- but right now, he’s gorgeous. Splendid. Magnificent.  
Rei has never cared what kind of clothes Nagisa wears, as long as they don’t make him look like a homeless waif. The dress he has on now makes Rei think he might be on the cusp of changing his mind about not caring. The shade of yellow sets off the gold of his hair and perfectly compliments his skin tone. His eyes are wide, deep strawberry pink, framed by thick, chocolate brown lashes, slightly hooded as they gaze in Rei’s direction, a perfect combination of seductive and bashful.

His perfect, pale shoulders are bare, revealing soft throat and sharp collarbone. Nagisa’s habit of wearing oversized sweaters most days has made his upper torso and arms somewhat of a forbidden garden for Rei, and seeing him so exposed causes a dramatic flutter in Rei’s chest.

Nagisa’s also wearing a pair of white pumps, adding to his height and lengthening his toned legs, which the short dress offers an enticing mid-thigh high view of. Yes, Rei generally considers himself an intelligent man. But today, words are failing him completely.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an appointment,” Nagisa pouts at him, fluttering his lashes.

Rei snatches his hand out of his desk drawer and fixes his tie, desperately trying to string together a response. A witty one, preferably, but Rei has never been known for his pithy remarks. Seriously, at this point, any words will do. “I...um...I-I think I can pencil you in,” he mumbles. It’s nearly lunch hour, afterall- time Rei would regularly spend going for a run and then eating his bento alone in his office. Nagisa offers a far more appealing option.

As if to emphasise Rei’s thought, Nagisa sways his hips when he walks forward, setting an opaque shopping bag next to the chair and hopping up to sit on Rei’s desk, dress riding up and displaying even more silky thigh. “Really, Rei-chan? You know I mean a sex appointment, right?”

He smells incredible. Like sweetpeas and pansies. Rei can hardly think. “I know what you mean,” he says, standing, leaning on his desk for support.

Nagisa’s entire face brightens. “In your office? But you always say-” He deepens his voice mockingly- “Sex in the workplace is completely inappropriate. I can’t even imagine copulating somewhere like that.”

Rei coughs and adjusts his glasses. He doesn’t have a witty return to that, so he settles for saying, “I can now,” and leans in for a kiss. Nagisa’s soft lips taste like cherry, and despite Rei’s distaste for sweet things, he finds it quite pleasant.

“Are you wearing lipgloss?”

Nagisa laughs, smacking his lips. “Flavoured lip chap. I know you hate gunky makeup.”

“You did this all for me?” Usually when Nagisa cross-dresses it’s for nobody but himself, which Rei has never minded in the least (apart from the make-up, of course. It makes his nose itch when they kiss.) 

Nagisa trails his index finger up the front of Rei’s dress shirt, avoiding his eyes. “Kind of. And partly because…”

“Because of our discussion last night?”

“Yes,” Nagisa whispers, nodding. “We didn’t celebrate it properly.”

Though not generally very good at reading people, Rei knows Nagisa better than he’s ever known anything in his life. He can tell there’s more to it than just that, especially for Nagisa to come to his office. He’s worried that sex isn’t the best solution to the problem, either. He strokes his fingers through Nagisa’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. “Are you alright?”

At that, Nagisa bites his lower lip, which quivers slightly, his eyes misting. “I...I’m mostly okay. I had a really bad morning, but Rinrin came and cheered me up.”

“And he’s the one who has Mamiko right now?” Rei had assumed it was Haru.

“Yeah,” Nagisa says, closing his eyes. A single tear squeezes out from his lashes and slips down the side of his face, elegant, crystalline. It only makes him look more beautiful, in Rei’s eyes. Without stopping to think, Rei bends down and kisses the tear off of Nagisa’s cheek. 

“I’m glad you told me,” he murmurs, the salty taste clinging to his lips. He is glad; Nagisa had a tendency to hide his emotions, from Rei in particular. Another one of those things Rei had trouble understanding.

“Yeah, well, I kinda promised to, didn’t I,” Nagisa chuckles, catching Rei’s left hand in his own. The metal of his wedding ring is warm against Rei’s palm. Rei could point out that Nagisa seldom carries through with his promises, but even he knows that now is not the time for that.

Rei smiles. “You did. And I promised to support you no matter what. Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Nagisa shakes his head, blonde waves bouncing. “I already talked to Rinrin about it. I feel way better now.” The smouldering look is back in his eyes. “I want to make babies with you.”

“Y-you...babies…” The things that come out of Nagisa’s mouth. His imagination rivals the Milky Way Galaxy in its scope.

“Yes, Rei-chan. I want you to make love to me and make me feel good. I want your come in me.”

“Nagisa…” Rei can feel his ears turning red. Nagisa’s bedroom talk has always been...well, creative, but there’s something about it this time, the earnestness and tenderness in his voice, that really turns Rei on.

Nagisa grasps Rei’s tie and lays back on the desk, leading Rei down with him. “Come on, babe, please. You’re so sexy in your work clothes. I want you so much.” He spreads his legs, wrapping them around Rei’s waist and pulling him in.

“We can’t just do it on the desk-” Cherry lips cut him off, and this time Nagisa’s need and arousal is evident as his tongue sweeps into Rei’s mouth, and Rei finds himself reciprocating, settling into an easy rhythm. He forgets about the various papers and files on his desk, barely noticing as they thunk to the floor when Nagisa shimmies back. 

“Unzip me,” Nagisa says, sitting up. Rei finds himself acquiescing without comment, fumbling for the zipper at the back of Nagisa dress, lifting it over his head. Then he stops, stunned for the second time in ten minutes, needing a moment to fully absorb the view that’s presented itself to him.

Nagisa lays back, propped up on his elbows, thighs spread on either side of Rei’s body. His expression is wide-eyed and innocent, nothing feigned about it, desire lighting up his face as he looks up from beneath wheaten bangs. His body is clothed by a white lace corset and matching silk panties. Rei loves the colour white on Nagisa.

“You look like an angel,” he says, staring. “You are my angel.”

A full, rich blush spreads across Nagisa’s face. “Rei-chan...I’m not…”

“Yes, you are,” Rei says firmly, lifting Nagisa’s hand to his mouth and kissing it. “I don’t regret choosing you to have children with. I never will.”

“Rei…” Now tears are streaming down Nagisa’s cheeks, but his eyes are open, his smile trembling, but still wide. Rei kisses his fingertips, then the palm of his hand, slowing his pace when he reaches Nagisa’s inner wrist, lavishing him with feather-soft presses of his lips. Nagisa giggles through his tears. It had taken years for him to stop pulling his arm away when Rei tried to do this. “Do you really like it?”

“I love it. You look beautiful, Nagisa.” Rei smiles, cocking his head to the side. “But you always do.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Nagisa sighs, happy. The sound reminds Rei vaguely of a wind chime.

Rei makes to fix his glasses, but Nagisa’s there in a moment, sliding them off of his face. The gesture remains as intimate for Rei as it was when they were fumbling teenagers. But he hardly has time to blush before Nagisa’s kissing him, fingers working on loosening his tie, plucking open his buttons and worming his hands inside to brush against Rei’s chest. “You’re beautiful, too, Rei. I love you so much. So much it hurts sometimes.”

“I feel the same way,” Rei murmurs against Nagisa’s lips, feeling his way up Nagisa’s thighs, thumbing the edge of his panties. He can feel the heat of Nagisa’s arousal beneath his hands, sense how much Nagisa wants him. He feels loved, needed, desired; enough to make his own desire swell as Nagisa deftly unbuckles his belt, sliding his hand into Rei’s underwear. Rei shivers, growing hard at his touch.

Nagisa pulls Rei down on top of him, causing Rei to smack his head on the corner of his computer monitor. Nagisa giggles, cupping Rei’s face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rei answers. “I told you we shouldn’t do it on the desk. It doesn’t meet the optimal conditions for love-making.”

“Oh, Rei-chan! Anywhere’s optimal, as long as it’s with you.” With that, he bucks his hips up against Rei’s lower belly, pulling Rei’s chin down so he can give him another kiss, more heat in it this time. Rei slips his hand under Nagisa’s back and hooks the other under his thigh, lifting him off the desk. Nagisa laughs and wraps his arms around Rei’s neck, hanging on tightly as Rei places him in the office chair and gets to his knees between Nagisa’s thighs. 

Rei lifts one of Nagisa’s legs, running his hands down the silky smooth skin and slipping off his shoe. He proceeds to kiss his way upwards from Nagisa’s foot, soft and gentle, rubbing small circles into the back of Nagisa’s knee. When he gets to the sensitive inner thigh, Nagisa jumps.

“Ohh, Rei...you’re so good to me,” Nagisa groans, spreading his legs further and ruffling Rei’s hair with his hand. “I want you…”

Rei leans back to survey his work, smiling satisfactorily. Nagisa’s eyes shine with arousal, one hand pressed absentmindedly against his chest, panties straining over his erection. He’s no longer so self-conscious about showing Rei his bare inner thighs, which makes Rei incredibly happy. He bends his head forward and licks a slow stripe up the first of the scars there. Nagisa shudders under him, hand fisting his hair a little more forcefully. Rei doesn’t mind, because he knows it means Nagisa’s really turned on. He likes being responsible for getting Nagisa into this state.

Finding the result very pleasing indeed, Rei spends the next several minutes methodically licking each scar on Nagisa’s body, running his hands lightly across Nagisa’s skin and lavishing every inch of him with kisses, enjoying the way Nagisa moans and slowly comes apart at his touch.

“Oh, uhhh, god, Rei,” he whimpers, fingers curled into the fabric of his lingerie. “So...so good…”

Rei prides himself on knowing every one of Nagisa’s erogenous zones, where and when he should spend his time massaging, caressing, teasing. He slides his hands up Nagisa’s chest, rubbing tight circles across the lace stretched over his nipples. They grow hard and pert almost immediately, Nagisa squirming in his seat and tightening his thighs around Rei’s waist. “Please, babe...hahhhh…” 

Rei smiles at the way Nagisa’s hands rake down his body, fingertips digging into his naked thighs. Rei knows he’s trying desperately not to touch himself. The precum dampening his panties is ever so tempting, but Rei isn’t even close to finishing his preparations, careful ministrations that he knows Nagisa needs sometimes, even if he doesn’t know it himself. Not for the first time, Rei wishes Nagisa could see his own body through Rei’s eyes, that he could see how beautiful he truly is.

“Kiss me,” Nagisa demands enthusiastically. Rei happily complies, pushing himself forward to meet Nagisa’s enticing, warm mouth at the same time as he moves to unhook the tiny eyelets on the front of the corset. It takes time, because there are dozens of them, but if there’s one virtue Rei has on his side, it’s self-control. He uses a great deal of it to keep himself from ripping the flimsy lace right off. He doesn’t want to ruin the beauty of the garment; he hopes to see much more of it in the future.

Having placed the corset off to the side, Rei turns back to his waiting lover, kissing his way over Nagisa’s abs, up his torso, to lick and suck at his bare nipple. Rei trails his hands over Nagisa’s chest and collarbones, down his arms, across his wrists, and clasps both of his hands. He moves his way up Nagisa’s body with his mouth, kisses becoming more intense, hungrier, love bites almost. Nagisa gasps and pants beneath him, moaning praises in Rei’s ear.

Rei never expected to find heaven in his office today, yet here it is, in the form of skin on quivering skin, the liquid gold sighs of his lover, every touch, every breath beautiful. Beautiful, and his. Rei groans as Nagisa’s hands slip inside his open shirt to caress his shoulders and chest; his hands are always so soft, due to his Body Shop addiction. Rei muses that the cost of expensive lotion is worth it, for this. And on that note...

“I assume you brought lubricant?”

Nagisa nods emphatically. “In the shopping bag.” Rei continues to stroke Nagisa’s thigh with one hand while reaching for the nearby bag and pulling out a newly purchased tube. “It’s the kind that tingles,” Nagisa laughs. He knows Rei very well indeed. 

Positioning himself again, adjusting his pants to accommodate the uncomfortable tightness there, Rei bends his head to kiss Nagisa’s stomach, licking suggestively into his bellybutton, tasting the metallic tang of the piercing there. He’d been absolutely livid the day Nagisa came home with it, but, well, it had grown on him. Like most of the things Nagisa did. “It’s a butterfly today,” Rei comments, catching his breath.

“It reminds me of you,” Nagisa tells him, pulling his fingers through the hair on the back of Rei’s neck. And that information really shouldn’t make Rei grin like an idiot, but it does, joy swelling in both his heart and his groin.

“If I had one, I’d get a penguin.”

Nagisa jolts up alarmingly fast. “Oh my god, you should totally get one!”

“I am not getting my belly button pierced. Do you know how ridiculous it would look?” Wait, wait, that’s not what he means. “On me?” Great save, Rei, he tells himself. He fears what shade of red his face must be by now.

“Aw, it would look so good on you! Your stomach is so tight and fit…” The only appropriate word Rei can find to describe the quality of Nagisa’s voice is “horny,” which is regrettable, because usually his vocabulary is far more robust. Stooping to colloquialisms somewhat stings his pride. “Mmmnh, you’d be soooo fucking hot.”

Rei crushes his lips against Nagisa’s, his self control bursting at the seams. Nagisa gives a startled moan before settling into the kiss, matching Rei’s passion, tongues twining together as Rei helps Nagisa shimmy out of his panties. As soon as they’re off, Nagisa sets to work running his hands over Rei’s chest, teasing his nipples. Rei would be lying if he said it felt as good as it seems to on Nagisa; his nipples have never been particularly sensitive, but having Nagisa’s hands all over him is not unpleasant in the least. 

Without breaking the kiss, lube still clutched in his hand, Rei lifts Nagisa and gracelessly maneuvers them so that he’s sitting in the chair with his lover in his lap. But looking at Nagisa, who’s naked and leaking precum down the underside of his cock, face flushed with desire and indescribable love, makes Rei forget about things like grace and elegance- outward appearance is not the be all and end all of beauty, he’s come to understand.

“Hurry, babe,” Nagisa whispers against his lips, nibbling gently down his jaw and throat, hand reaching down to deftly unbutton Rei’s slacks and free his erection. A few slow, sensual pumps have Rei completely hard, shuddering beneath Nagisa’s skilled fingers. “I want you inside me,” Nagisa moans.

“‘Kay,” is the reply Rei manages to summon. His linguistic talents are really taking a hit today. Uncapping the lubricant, Rei squeezes a fair amount onto his hand before twisting the lid back on and tossing the tube onto the desk. Initiating another luxurious kiss, he massages the back of Nagisa’s thighs, sliding his hands slowly up to cup his ass, spreading him and slipping a lubricated finger up and down his crease.

Nagisa goes completely still save for his tongue, hands tightening on Rei’s shoulders. The kiss becomes slow and intense, a deep, urgent act burning with want yet also comfort, familiarity, and emotion. The way Nagisa mewls into his mouth when he pushes in a finger sends electricity down Rei’s spine to pool in his lower belly. 

With his index finger he prods and pokes, opening Nagisa up, pulling out to circle his hole before thrusting back inside. Nagisa pushes down on him in the most delightful manner, pulling out of the kiss to catch his breath, eyes glassy with lust, face stained cherry pink. “Hahh, please, put your cock in, Rei-chan!”

“Just be patient, love,” Rei says, ignoring the way his dick twitches at the raw need in Nagisa’s voice. He slips another finger in, thrusting a little harder, deeper, finding the place he knows will make Nagisa feel the best. He crooks his fingers into it, rubbing it again and again, relishing Nagisa going completely wild above him, shaking and visibly restraining from touching himself. He’s just so wonderfully sensitive from behind. 

Precum dribbles freely from Nagisa’s tip as he rocks back and forth into Rei’s touch, gathering until it begins to trickle lazily down Rei’s abs. “Oh god, stop,” he cries raggedly, squeezing his thighs around Rei’s. “I don’t wanna come from just f-fingers. I want you in me.” 

“Okay,” Rei relents, pulling his fingers out with a wet sound. He gives himself a couple good strokes, slicking himself with lubricant and precum, and then holds himself steady by the base, using his free hand to support Nagisa by the hip. “Go ahead.”

“Yes, finally!” Nagisa rejoices, licking his lips as he lowers his ass. He usually goes so fast that Rei fears he’ll injure himself, but today it’s a relaxed, languid pace that sort of drives Rei crazy. “Uhhhh, your dick is so big and hard. It feels soo-” Nagisa releases a moan fit for a porn video. “-goooood.”

They’ve done this a thousand times, and the office is actually pretty chilly, but none of it stops Rei from blushing furiously at Nagisa’s words and breaking into a sweat. He reaches to fix his glasses before realizing they aren’t on his face. Seriously, who in their right mind says things like that? Things that are just so...so dirty. So incredibly...sexy. “Nagisa-kun…”

“Don’t call me -kun in bed, you dork,” Nagisa giggles, grinding down so his ass is flush with Rei’s still-clothed thighs. Rei hates to think how filthy his pants will be after this, so he doesn’t, instead focusing on how tight Nagisa is around his cock.

“Technically we’re not in bed,” he points out, stifling a gasp. “We’re in...chair.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me, Rei-kun,” Nagisa says with a dramatic flourish, wrapping his arms around Rei’s neck and starting to rock back and forth, producing an impossibly sexy series of moans.

And Rei would try to talk dirty, but he knows he’s no good at it; all his previous attempts have been met with Nagisa's hysterical laughter. His strengths lie in other things, things he makes use of by kissing Nagisa’s beautiful little mouth, thrusting his hips up to meet every roll of Nagisa’s, aiming specifically for the sweet spot, meaning to reduce his husband to a quivering, satisfied, joyful mass of jelly. Precisely calculated movements of his hips, at the exact right angle and speed; this is what Rei’s good at.

“Oh god,” Nagisa cries, arching his back, reaching down to stroke himself, other hand digging into Rei’s shoulder. “Faster!”

Rei grips Nagisa’s hips, helping to hold him steady and pull him down into each thrust, and it’s deep, it’s good, but it’s difficult for him to move when he’s seated in the chair, difficult to build up the proper momentum that either of them needs, although the slow, almost-enough-but-not quite pace has his belly flooded with heat, arousal coiling so tightly that the thought of his eventual release makes his legs tingle. Nagisa seems to be faring no better, if his erotic expression can be trusted.

“You win,” Rei grunts, forcing Nagisa to stop for a moment. “The desk.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t optimal for love-making,” Nagisa teases, though his face is filled with more lust than mockery, voice decidedly shaky.

Rei picks Nagisa up once again, staying inside him, and lays him down on the flat oak surface as gently as possible, scraping papers and pens out of the way and onto the floor, which is already a frightful mess. The photos, however, he reaches over to grab, putting them in the top drawer. And the penguin snow globe Nagisa got him for Christmas one year. And his glasses. And his pencil holder, because it really would be a tragedy if that tipped over-

“Rei.” Nagisa has his head tilted coyly to the side, giving him a look of adoring disbelief. “I’m down here.” He tugs on Rei’s tie.

“Sorry,” Rei blushes, letting himself be pulled into Nagisa’s kiss. Nagisa sets one hand on the side of his face and Rei runs his own over Nagisa’s pliant thighs, spreading him fully open, loving the heat of the erection pressing into his stomach.

Nagisa moans wantonly as Rei slides ever deeper inside of him. “Now! Now, babe, give it to me!” And Rei does, pulling about halfway out and then snapping his hips forward, out again, almost all the way, and then back in, as deep as he can go. Nagisa writhes beneath him, clenching, creating mind-blowing pressure on Rei’s cock. Rei keeps a tight grip on Nagisa’s knees, holding his legs out of the way as he increases his speed. 

“Oh my god, I’m so close, oh. My. God,” Nagisa wails tremulously, throwing his head back against the desk with a dull thunk, hands raking over his own torso to fondle his nipples. This is the reason Rei never has to watch porn- surely Nagisa is better than any professional actors out there.

Rei’s close too, wound so tightly he’s about to snap, every one of Nagisa’s clenches and moans travelling straight into his belly, adding to the heat, to the pleasure, to his desperate need to-

“Come,” Rei gasps, thrusting deep into Nagisa’s sweet spot. “Come with me.” And Nagisa shudders, arching his back up off the desk as orgasm takes him, closing his eyes and whimpering. Rei continues pressing into him as his own body’s wracked with powerful shivers, stars blossoming in his vision as he bends down to kiss Nagisa’s mouth, cupping his cheek, swiping his thumb gently across Nagisa’s eyelashes. “Look at me,” he whispers.

Nagisa opens his eyes as his orgasm peaks, huge pink orbs staring up into Rei’s face, pupils dilated. “I love you, Rei-chan,” Nagisa sighs dreamily, trembling in aftershock, come splattered wetly across his chest.

“I love you, Nagisa-kun,” Rei laughs, breathless from his own powerful orgasm, kissing Nagisa’s rosy cheek.

“Uhhhh, that was soooo goooood….you’re amazing,” he replies, wrapping his limbs around Rei and nuzzling his collarbone.

Rei smiles into Nagisa’s sweat-soaked hair. “That’s true. And you’re not too bad yourself.”

“Rei! Oh my god, did you just make a joke?” Nagisa sounds pleased. “It better have been a joke.”

“It was,” Rei says, incredibly proud of himself for his victorious advances in both sex and humour today. 

Tittering, Nagisa pushes himself into a sitting position, letting Rei slip out of him. “You’re being funny AND having sex at work. What the heck happened to you?”

“You happened to me,” Rei tells him calmly, because it’s true. 

Nagisa blushes. “Okay, well while you’re being so bad, how about that belly button piercing?”

“Never going to happen,” Rei says, handing Nagisa a wad of tissues.

“Dang it,” Nagisa pouts, using them to wipe up the sticky mess on his chest. Then he glances at Rei with suspiciously hooded eyes. “What about taking the rest of the day off?”

Rei looks at the clock, instantly wishing he hadn’t. His lunch break ended ages ago. Searching for his phone, he finds it laying on the floor behind his desk, knocked off the base, message light blinking angry red. He hates to think of what sort of messages await him in his inbox. “I can’t. I have so much work to do. I’ve gotten nothing done today because my computer decided to lose the file I was working on. I was just going to write it out by hand, but…” He pulls the paper out from under Nagisa’s butt, in a sadly crumpled and lube-sodden state. He’d be fired for sure if he even thought about sending that out to a client.

“Hang on,” Nagisa says, tugging his panties up over his hips. “Let me look at it.” He sits in Rei’s chair, jiggling the mouse to wake up the monitor.

“Really,” Rei scoffs, putting his glasses back on. “I highly doubt you’ll be able to do anything. It’s completely van-”

“Is this it?”

“No, that’s...wait. Wait, yes, yes it is, that’s it!” Rei’s absolutely stunned at the sheer speed in Nagisa located the file. “How did you do that?”

Nagisa shrugs. “I’unno.” Then he pushes himself away from the desk with a twirl, enjoying the wheely chair far more than a twenty-six year old man really ought to.

“How can you not know?”

Nagisa brings the chair to a stop, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. “I’ll tell you, Ryuugazaki,” he says in a serious voice. “But there are conditions.”

“Which are?” Rei plays along, tightening his belt. He wants to know, damn it. He’d spent over half an hour searching for that stupid file, and it had taken Nagisa less than thirty seconds. Computers really were the worst.

“You have to spend the rest of the day with your family,” Nagisa continues, waggling his eyebrows ominously. “Not at work, which is boring and lame.”

“It’s not-” Rei catches himself, taking a breath as he fixes his buttons. Some things are just not worth arguing about. “Fine, Hazuki-san. Whatever you say.” The work day is beyond salvaging at this point, and finding the file saved him from the rest of the work he was going to spend the afternoon doing anyway.

“YES!” Nagisa squeals, jumping up to give Rei another kiss before picking his clothes up off the floor. "I found it in 'recent places.'"

But...but Rei had checked there, ten times, at least. He gives up trying to understand without having to purchase several computer manuals, which he really doesn't have time for since fatherhood began. “That’s only one condition, by the way.”

“Oh.” Nagisa appears to consider it, pulling his dress over his head. “The other one...is that we have to go out for dinner.” 

Rei sighs. “I suppose we can afford that. Since we’re celebrating our decision to have another baby.”

“Yes,” Nagisa beams, and Rei doesn’t miss the way his hands hover over his stomach as he smooths down the skirt. Rei’s a little concerned, but at least Nagisa looks happy. “Rei-chan?”

“Yes, love?” 

“I’m super excited.”

“I am as well. Now, help me clean up this mess so we can leave."

"Sure," Nagisa says, bending to pick up some papers, flashing Rei a perfect view of white panties. Despite having the mess-making force of a minor hurricane, Nagisa's usually fairly reasonable about cleaning, if Rei nags him enough. Which works out quite well, because although Rei's obsessed with having things tidy, there are some chores, such as snaking the drain, that actually make him feel rather ill. Somehow Nagisa seems to have no trouble at all with tasks like that.

"And,” Rei continues, waiting for Nagisa to stand up and look him in the eye, just to show that he means it. "Mamiko's eating off of YOUR plate this time, because I didn't get lunch, and I'm hungry."

“Awww…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we've got Princess Rinrin, some awkward goodbyes, and Haru actually having to consider his future. 
> 
> ALSO- the most wonderful and lovely solidaduniverse drew some amazing fanart to go with this fiction!
> 
> **Oh, and in case you're wondering what Rei dressed up as for Hallowe'en, it was the zoo's snow cone guy. Nagisa decorated Mamiko's stroller to look like the snow cone cart. Heh heh.
> 
> Chat me up [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/) (I'm very lonely over there)


	19. The Shark Bites With His Teeth, Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lewd, high, yet distinctly masculine voice comes from behind the locked door, disturbing Miho’s train of thought. “Oh, uhhh, god, Rei, so...so good!” Miho freezes with her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Are they...no. She shakes her head. No, that can’t- Ryuugazaki-san? The most anal, meticulous, by-the-book boss she’s ever had? But it had sounded for a moment like they were...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...so...I'm sorry. First of all that this took so long to post, and second because...I don't even know what the shit this is supposed to be (once again.)
> 
> It stemmed from a conversation I had with [sugarcoatednonsense](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2362700/chapters/5215976) about how Rei's secretary could probably hear what they were doing and gee, wouldn't that be hilarious, and then this monstrosity happened.
> 
> And then, I uh, well, I heard you guys like SouRin, and dialogue! Well, what a time to be alive!

Miho’s enjoying her new job, even if her boss is, well, weird. Reclusive. Horrible at small talk. She doesn’t mind; she’s shy, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to speak to him much. He gives her a polite greeting when he arrives for the morning, and a dutiful parting remark when he leaves in the evening.

He seldom smiles, it’s true, but he’s never been rude to her in the least. He might be boring, but honestly, most of the office rumours about Ryuugazaki-san seem crueler than they need to be. There’s even one floating around among the junior women that he’s gay. Miho doesn’t believe it, but she’d asked once what his wife’s name is, just to check. Nagisa. And he wears a wedding band on his left hand, so Miho has no idea where people dreamed up that rumour from. 

Until today. Just before lunch, a woman with short blonde hair shows up. Miho thinks she recognizes her from one of the pictures she’d once caught a glimpse of on Ryuugazaki-san’s desk. 

“Hi,” the blonde woman says cheerfully, arms behind her back. She must have a cold, because her voice is rather deep. Unless... “Are you Rei’s new secretary?” And no, that voice is definitely not female. It can’t be.

“Oh, ah, yes. I’m Amakata Miho. You must be his...wife.”

The man giggles. “Yes! I’m Nagisa.” He looks Miho over. Miho’s used to getting the once-over from her boss’ wives, which is why she tries to dress as plainly and professionally as possible. Absolutely zero cleavage, ever. Yet they all seem to instantly hate her, no matter what she does. But this time is different, which makes complete sense. If Ryuugazaki’s gay, there’s no way Miho would pose as a threat. “Your make-up is so pretty,” Nagisa raves. “I wish I could pull off the nude look. I always end up wearing way too much.”

Miho blushes, hardly daring to believe such a compliment. Or what’s happening, for that matter. “I...thank you. I love your shoes.”

She’s never seen a person’s eyes light up so much at such a simple comment. “Really?” He lowers his voice confidingly. “I’ve been practicing so I won’t fall over in them.”

And that’s all it takes for Miho to decide that she likes Ryuugazaki’s “wife,” even if she can’t make head or tails of what exactly is going on. She needs more time to process all this information. Why is Nagisa dressed as a girl? Is he a transvestite? Don’t they have a child? So many questions! Ah, well, it’s none of her business... “You’re doing a great job, I couldn’t even tell. Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”

Nagisa wrings his hands anxiously. “If he’s not busy. Um...but don’t tell him it’s me.”

“A surprise?”

Another cute giggle. “Yes, please!” 

What a sweetie. Miho presses the button on the PA system down, sharing a conspiratory smile with Nagisa. “Ryuugazaki-san, someone’s here to see you.”

“Send them in, please,” Ryuugazaki’s grainy voice replies after a short pause.

Nagisa smoothes his hair and takes a deep breath, casting Miho a nervous smile. Miho gives him a thumbs up, and then he steps forward, perfectly steady in his heels, skirt swishing around his thighs. He really is very pretty. Miho has no idea what he has to feel nervous about. 

Miho pays no mind when she heard the office door lock. They’re likely discussing some important personal matters. Miho goes back to her computer, intent on finishing Ryuugazaki’s schedule before he has a chance to be annoyed at her for not knowing exactly what he’s going to be doing for the next month. _Monday, 10 am, meeting with-_ it’s no good. She can’t concentrate. Not with this delicious new fact floating around in her head.

Miho wastes no time in opening the company’s internal IM window and starting a group chat with her friends from downstairs.

 

Amakata Miho: Ryuugazaki’s wife is here.

Sato Hikari: srsly? whats she like?

Amakata Miho: Really nice. Pretty. Blonde.

Sato Hikari: omg like one of those ditzes with huge tits?

Uzuki Yuna: I think I saw her come in. She didn’t have huge boobs, Hika-chan.

Amakata Miho: I have news, though!

Sato Hikari: DISH

Amakata Miho: Ryuugazaki’s wife is a GUY.

Sato Hikari: called it

Uzuki Yuna: Don’t jump to conclusions, Mi-chan.

Amakato Miho: I’m serious! Totally a man. You can tell by his voice.

Uzuki Yuna: Wow, I never would have guessed! He looked so cute and girly!

 

A lewd, high, yet distinctly masculine voice comes from behind the locked door, disturbing Miho’s train of thought. “Oh, uhhh, god, Rei, so...so good!” Miho freezes with her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Are they...no. She shakes her head. No, that can’t- Ryuugazaki-san? The most anal, meticulous, by-the-book boss she’s ever had? But it had sounded for a moment like they were...

Miho cocks her head, listening intently for more evidence. It comes, muffled, but loud enough to catch every word. “Please, babe...hahhhh…” 

Still, that could be...um, perhaps he’s rubbing Nagisa’s back, to relax him. It makes sense. He had been fairly tense. 

Miho starts up her furious typing pace again, focusing on her monitor. The next cry erases all doubts from her mind. “Hahh, please, put your cock in, Rei-chan!”

 

Amakata Miho: Oh my god they’re totally having sex!!!

Sato Hikari: if ur lying to me right now imma cut a bitch

Uzuki Yuna: That doesn’t seem like something Ryuugazaki would do.

 

“Uhhhh, your dick is so big and hard,” Nagisa’s voice moans. “It feels soo goooood.” Miho should not be listening to this, definitely not. Not from anyone, let alone her boss. It's past the time Ryuugazaki's lunch is supposed to begin, so she can't go anywhere. She's supposed to stay here and field calls until he gets back. Or is finished...whatever he's doing. She could put in her earphones and listen to music. Yes, she should do that. Her mp3 is in her purse.

 

Amakata Miho: I’m serious I can hear everything!! Apparently Ryuugazaki’s got a big dick.

Uzuki Yuna: I knew it!

Uzuki Yuna: Lol, are you taking notes for your erotic novel?

Amakata Miho: I TOTALLY SHOULD!!!!

Sato Hikari: ew, about Ryuugazaki??? Sick!!! I’d rather die 

 

“Oh god. Faster!” Miho strains her ears, hearing a few dull thumps and the rustling of papers falling to the floor. Who is she kidding? She doesn't want to block this out. How many chances is she going to get in her life to hear something like this? Besides, they say "if opportunity doesn't knock, build a door." Miho isn't entirely sure that applies here, but close enough. As an aspiring writer, how can she possibly turn away the chance to get real research? She sends all of Ryuugazaki's calls through to voicemail.

 

Amakata Miho: Guys, guys, I think he did the thing!! 

Sato Hikari: what thing?

Amakata Miho: Where the guy romantically sweeps all the stuff off his desk and then takes her passionately on top of it!!!

Sato Hikari: omg ur such a sap. Too much josei manga.

 

“Now! Now, babe, give it to me!” Nagisa pleads from beyond the door. Miho can hear the desk creaking and thumping against the floor in a very rhythmic, suggestive way. She’s getting turned on just listening to it. Imagining it is even better. 

 

Amakata Miho: You can’t hear what I’m hearing right now. It’s better than porn.

Uzuki Yuna: What are you talking about, Hika-chan? Ryuugazaki’s hot.

Sato Hikari: ya, GAY porn

 

As if to punctuate Hikari’s point, Nagisa cries out a strangled “Oh my god, I’m so close, oh. My. God.” And then Miho can hear Ryuugazaki’s lower tones, too, mixed in with Nagisa’s wordless cry. If this were an anime, Miho’s sure she’d be drowning in her own nosebleed blood by now.

"Hey, I came to fix Ryuugazaki's computer." Miho nearly jumps out of her skin, snapping her head around to see a skinny woman in a uniform and an IT badge.

"Oh, ah, um...sorry, he's, he's exercising." Everybody knows he likes to go running on his lunch breaks. "I'll let you know when he's back in."

The woman sighs, muttering "typical" under her breath as she slinks away. Miho hopes to god that she didn't catch the, well, _climax_ of Ryuugazaki's performance. And realize that Miho had been listening to the whole thing like some kind of giant pervert. Although she supposes that's probably not far from the truth. The realization heats her face with embarrassment.

Luckily, Ryuugazaki and Nagisa don’t come out for about fifteen more minutes, giving Miho time to calm down before she has to look them in the face. When they do emerge, she sits stiffly in her chair, pretending to be absorbed in the contents of the file folder in front of her.

Nagisa comes out first, face rosy pink and eyes sparkling, hair slightly damp with sweat. Upon second glance, she finds that he’s actually very attractive, in a shota kind of way. He leans casually against her desk, beaming at her. “Ama-chan! Whatcha doing?”

“Oh. Uh,” Ami turns red, eyes flickering to Rei’s turned back. “Just...some work.”

“Sounds boring." Nagisa flashes another bright smile. "So, I'm totally stealing Rei for the rest of the day.”

Miho tries to keep a straight face. "Yes, he should take a break sometimes. He always works so...um, h-hard."

Nagisa snickers. "How much did you hear?"

Ryuugazaki chooses that moment to exit his office, wearing an expression that's probably supposed to be serious but looks more guilty than anything. He takes a long time to lock the door before turning around to face Miho. "I'm leaving early today. Please cancel my appointments."

"You don't have any, sir." Ordinarily, he's hyper aware of precisely how many appointments he has, with whom, and when they begin. He must be completely addled to have forgotten his entire afternoon schedule. Understandably, if Nagisa's noise was any indication.

"Oh." He blinks once, appearing slightly dazed. "Well, that's good, then. And I don't need IT to fix my computer. It's working now."

Maintaining her composure is almost impossible as Miho continues to make awkward eye contact. "Uh...someone came up here about twenty minutes ago. I figured you...didn't want to be disturbed. So she, um, left."

Colour rushes into Ryuugazaki's face. "Oh, god...this is how I lose my job, isn't it?"

"You're not gonna lose your job," Nagisa says, rolling his eyes.

"I've never been fired from anything before, what am I going to do?" Rei frets, pacing back and forth. Miho's never seen him like this before. "It'll ruin my whole resume, and then I won't be able to find another job, and we'll have to move to the ghetto and live off of your hair-dressing income, but that won't be enough, so you'll have to get a second job, and Mamiko will have to go to a _public_ school-"

"REI! Calm down," Nagisa laughs, taking Ryuugazaki's hand and forcing him to stand still. It's so sweet that Miho has to struggle not to squirm in her seat. "Everything's gonna be fine. Ama-chan won't tell, right?"

Miho freezes in the middle of shaking her head. Yuna and Hikari know. And Miho can't promise that they won't tell anyone, either. Hikari especially is a notorious blabbermouth. "If it helps, everyone kinda already knew you were gay. There were bets."

"See babe? It's fine. And what the hell is wrong with with public school?"

If Ryuugazaki turns any redder, he might legitimately burst into flames. "That's not the issue here! The issue is that I just broke the rules. Wait, bets?!"

"Aw, but everyone breaks the rules sometimes," Nagisa wheedles, nuzzling his head against Ryuugazaki's shoulder. Miho wishes she had her camera. 

But then Ryuugazaki stiffens, pushing Nagisa away. " _I_ am not _everyone_."

"You are now," Nagisa points out, eyes glittering with mirth. His enjoyment seems to heighten in direct accordance with how embarrassed Ryuugazaki is. Miho is more than content just to watch the two of them. This side of Ryuugazaki is as entertaining as it is surprising. "But don't worry! I'll take responsibility," Nagisa adds, trailing a finger up Ryuugazaki's shirt (which, Miho notes, is uncharacteristically misbuttoned.)

Ryuugazaki pushes Nagisa's hand away. "You aren't allowed to touch me at work anymore," he says strictly.

"Aw," Nagisa pouts. "Then I won't send you dirty pictures when _I'm_ at work anymore."

"Good, you're supposed to be _working_ when you're there, not contriving to give me heart palpitations."

"Okayyyy," Nagisa says, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll send you a video next time. Yeah, a loud one, right when you're in the middle of a conference, of me stroking my own-"

Ryuugazaki claps his hand firmly over Nagisa's mouth, giving Miho the most shocked, alarmed look she's ever received. He reminds her slightly of a child who's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I apologize for his- our- behaviour, Amakata-san. Please forgive such a disturbing, unprofessional display of affection in the workplace. It will nev- NAGISA, THAT'S DISGUSTING!"

Ryuugazaki pulls his hand from Nagisa's mouth as though he's been bitten, wiping it on his pants and glaring.

"What," Nagisa says, swiping his arm over his mouth to clear off the saliva. "You were balls deep in my ass ten minutes ago, and now you can't take a little spit?"

This time the colour seems to drain out of Rei's face entirely. He's silent for several moments, blinking at some blank spot on the wall. Then he says, in a quiet voice, "Maybe it would be better if I resigned before they could fire me. Save a tiny shred of dignity..."

"Oh my god, and people say _I'm the dramatic one_ ," Nagisa says, pushing Ryuugazaki towards the exit. He goes willingly, still staring off into the distance.

"Um...is he okay?" Miho asks, standing. "Water, maybe?"

"Oh, no. He needs something stronger than that. You know, Ama-chan," Nagisa says. "I like you. You're not all old and stuffy like Rei's old secretary. She quit when she found out he's gay."

"I would never," Miho quickly assures him. "Never. I...I think I like it, actually. Now I never have to worry about my boss hitting on me."

Nagisa snorts a laugh. "Rei doesn't know how to hit on people. He's the worst at it. The only person in the world his pickup lines work on is me. Besides," he leans in to whisper, as if it's a government secret. "Ladies scare him."

And then they're both retreating into the distance, an energetic figure in a yellow dress dragging a taller, lethargic figure by the hand toward the elevators. Miho waits until the chrome door slides shut on them before letting herself go, flopping into her chair and squealing. She has a real live yaoi happening right in front of her eyes. She's really, really starting to like this job. 

 

 

Rin uses a sparkly pink elastic to tie off the last braid. "There you go, kiddo." He admires his handiwork. Nowhere as good as Nagisa can get it, but not too bad, considering how much Mamiko has been squirming.

Mamiko holds up a small toy hand mirror, studying herself gravely for a moment before exclaiming, "I'm pwetty."

"Mhm. Sure are. You're a queen, just like your daddy."

"YA!" Mamiko nods, her head of tiny braids bouncing. She scrambles off to the box of toys in the corner, digging through it for something. She returns with a cheap plastic tiara, most of the purple gemstones missing from it. She shoves it into Rin's face.

"Oh, for me? Geez, milady, you're too kind," he says, holding his hands out reverently for it. Mamiko giggles, climbing into Rin's lap instead, trying to place the tiara on his head. Unfortunately, her foot lands in the middle of his crotch.

Rin stuffs his fist into his mouth to dam up the flow of swears that threaten to break free, tears forming in his eyes. "Holy fyaaaaa.....ow, ow, OW."

Mamiko shrieks in laughter, trying to replicate the action, crown still clutched tightly in her chubby fist. Demon spawn. 

"Hey, stop that," Rin says, lifting her up enough that her feet swing uselessly in the air. "Put the crown on me. I wanna be pretty, too." She gives up her kicking, putting the tiara on Rin's head and managing to pull his hair in the process. _Don't show weakness_ , Rin thinks, _she can sense your fear!_

Despite how much of a pain in the ass kids can be sometimes, Rin can't wait to be an uncle. He loves playing with Mamiko. "Now Win's a pwincess," she says, eyes sparkling.

"Damn straight I am. I mean...wait, just don't say that."

"Damn twaight," Mamiko says immediately.

"Crap."

"Cwap."

On the bright side, Nagisa will probably find this story hilarious. But the dark side is that Rei will likely try to strangle him, or at least banish him from ever babysitting again. Okay. Time to distract the twerp so she doesn't remember to show off her new vocabulary when her parents get home.

"Hey, Ma-chan, let's take a picture!" He pulls his phone out of his pocket, holding it up, hooking his other arm around Mamiko. "Smile."

She gives the biggest smile Rin's ever seen, screwing her eyes shut. He snaps the photo anyway. "Should we send it to your dad?"

"Ya," she says distractedly, toddling back toward her toy box.

Rin keeps her activity in his peripherals, sending the picture to Nagisa. He'll find it cute, and it proves that his precious daughter hasn't died yet under Rin's care. Then he flicks through his messages. His heart pounds stupidly hard when he sees he has a text from Sousuke.

 

Ocean Eyes (14:27): Mako says he's bringing his boyfriend over here tonight. 

Sent! (14:51): Be nice to him. 

Ocean Eyes (14:51): ...

Sent! (14:52): i'm serious. He's one of my best friends, and he's not as bad as you think he is. He loves Makoto.

Ocean Eyes (14:53): i'll try, i guess. For you. Nice that they get to spend their last day together.

Sent! (14:53): yeah, it's lucky. you guys leave at 10, right?

Ocean Eyes (14:54): yeah. All packed to go. What are you up to? How'd that thing go?

Sent! (14:55): Fine. I'm babysitting my friend's 2 year old.

Ocean Eyes (14:55): can't imagine you around kids.

Sent! (14:56): why not? I'm great with kids.

 

Just then Rin hears a loud crash. He drops his phone, looking wildly around for Mamiko. The vase that was on the end table beside the couch lies on the ground, broken in half. At least the carpet kept it from shattering into a million sharp, dangerous pieces at Mamiko's feet. "Oops," she says. Then she starts to cry.

"Aw, hey, it's no big deal," Rin tells her, reaching out for her hand. "Don't touch it, though. It's sharp."

"Sarp?"

"Sure, close enough." He sets Mamiko on the couch, turning on the tv. It's already set to a children's programming channel. Rin takes the broken pieces of pottery into the kitchen and sets them out of the reach of little, destructive hands. When he returns, Mamiko's gone. He looks wildly around, on the verge of a heart attack, until he hears muffled laughter coming from the toy box. "Hey, queen Ma-chan, where'd you go?"

The laughter gets even louder. "Nowhere."

Rin rolls his eyes, smiling. To be a kid again. "Oh. I guess I'll just have to sit here by myself, then." He picks up his phone and flops onto the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. She can't get up to much trouble in the toy box, so there's no harm in letting her stay there until she wants to come out.

Ocean Eyes (13:57): i just can't see it. must be the teeth. or the way you are in bed.

Sent! (14:08): You like my teeth, huh? money well spent, then. I'll have to use them on you next time you're in town.

Ocean Eyes (14:10): promise?

Sent! (14:11): unless you piss me off before then.

Ocean Eyes (14:13): are you sure there's no way to meet before I go? 

Sent! (14:14): I might be able to make it to the airport.

 

Okay. Going to say goodbye to Sousuke at the airport. How fucking lame is that? But on the other hand, what a staple in pretty much every romantic comedy ever. Rin sits up straighter and tries not to melt thinking about it. Besides, he hardly even knows this guy! Except he's Makoto's best friend, he's funny, and cool, and every time Rin talks to him his pulse starts to race. He's never felt like this with anyone before, except for Haru, back in the day. They have definite chemistry.

 

Ocean Eyes (14:15): don't bother. We can't do what I wanna do at the airport.

Sent! (14:16): Oh I see. So you just want sex, huh? 

 

Fine, so Sousuke's less like the romantic comedy male lead of Rin's dreams and more like an HBO antagonistic love interest, the kind meant to tempt the heroine off the straight-and-narrow. The Eric Northman. Rin can work with that, too. The sex is probably a hundred times better, for starters, and Rin isn't exactly the delicate flower his friends like to pretend he is. He works with fucked up, drug-addicted teenagers all day long, for Christ's sake, and if anything's more depressing than that, he sure hasn't found it yet. 

 

Ocean Eyes (14:18): I can't stop thinking about it. don't know if I can handle seeing you for only five minutes.

Sent! (14:19): too bad. I'm coming.

Ocean Eyes (14:20): you're gonna make me want to stay.

 

Rin feels his face flush. He sets his phone to the side, hugging a couch cushion to his chest. His heart pounds furiously against his ribs. Nobody's ever said anything remotely like that to him before. Rin's life has been a whirlwind of travelling, moving from place to place, never one place too long, never home. He's used to goodbyes. He's good at them. He's practiced them his whole life, with his father, his teammates, his friends, his family. 

This time he's not the one leaving. And this time...this person... _Seriously, idiot, don't cry,_. It's just harmless flirting. It doesn't even mean anything. All he wants is sex. _You're not even going to fucking see him again until god knows when, and by then he'll probably have found somebody new._

 

Sent! (14:23): what's your game, anyway?

Ocean Eyes (14:24): what do you mean?

Sent! (14:26): Do you have someone like me in every city you visit? Am I a booty call? Like...what do I mean to you?

 

There. He said it. The minutes tick by, Rin clutching his phone, waiting for it to vibrate, chest tight. Like he's some kind of teenage girl. He gets up to check on Mamiko, finding her fast asleep in the toy box, snuggled among the stuffed animals, dress up clothes, and broken crayons. Rin almost wishes he could climb in there with her. He leaves her, settling back down on the couch, watching some show about talking bugs. He'd change the channel if he knew where the remote went.

 

Ocean Eyes (14:45): call me

 

This is unexpected. Trying to calm his nerves, Rin hits the call button on his phone, holding it up to his ear. Sousuke picks up right away, sounding gruff, as usual. "Hey."

"So...uh..." Rin doesn't know where to begin. Saying things over text is so much easier than having to say them out loud. "Yeah."

"What if you are just a booty call?" Sousuke gets down to business.

"I...don't really know. How many others are there?"

A pause. "...None."

"Like I'm gonna believe that."

"I'm serious. I'm not seeing anyone."

Rin plays with a piece of his hair, scowling. "Are you planning on it?"

"What if I am?"

"I don't know. Not like I can stop you."

"You sound kinda pissed." Sousuke seems mildly amused, which only makes Rin even more upset. Even though he's trying to be mature about this, and not act like a jealous girlfriend.

"I'm not." Rin rakes his free hand through his hair, jostling loose the tiara he forgot he had on. He sets it on his stomach. "Okay fine, I am. I'm pissed that...I don't know. That you have to leave." That Rin won't get a real shot at Sousuke's heart. It isn't fair.

"I can visit, you know. I will visit."

Rin sighs. "Yeah, you say that now, but it's not like you're not gonna meet some other random dude at the bar after a show, right?"

"Rin." The way Sousuke says his name makes his skin tingle.

"What?"

"I've met tonnes of guys in clubs. I've been with so many I've lost count."

"Geez, rub it in my face, assho-"

"I'm saying I've never met anyone like you. I _will_ visit."

"I...well...you better."

"I'm the one worried that you're gonna fall in love while I'm gone."

"Why?"

"I've been hearing a lot about you from Mako."

Rin's really glad Sousuke can't see him blush. "Anything good?"

"Hardly. You know how Mako is. Only ever sees the bad in people."

"Oh, yeah," Rin laughs. "Can't wait to hear more from him about you."

"Then you seriously won't hear anything good. He tells me all the time what a jerk I am."

"Uh, well you are." Rin coughs, collecting his thoughts. "You really never were in love with him?"

"No." Sousuke pauses. "I've never been in love with anyone."

"How is that even possible?" How can a person be in their late twenties without ever falling in love? Rin falls in love practically every other day, whether he wants to or not. Like right now, with Sousuke, for instance. Yet Rin refuses to view it as a weakness; no, his ability to love like this is one of his strengths, even if it does land him with a broken heart most of the time. 

"I dunno. So you've been in love?"

"Yeah. Of course I have."

"With who?" And Rin must be crazy, because Sousuke sounds genuinely interested.

"Uh..."

"If you tell me, I'll answer one of your questions."

Rin takes a deep breath "Fine. A friend of mine."

"Have I met them?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Just tell me."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"So I have met them."

"Yeah, fine. You have. So what? It's not like I still love him."

Silence for a moment. "I have to go."

"If you do anything to him I'm coming over there to kick your ass."

"You better get over here, then."

Rin growls. "You know I can't. I have a fucking baby with me. Whatever. I'd like to see you get past Makoto when he's in protection mode."

"...I really fucking hate Nanase."

"Yeah, well, you better get in line. Pissing people off is his specialty."

"Why does it have to be him? Why not, I don't know, that blond guy? He's cute. I could understand that. Why fucking Nanase?"

"Maybe I have a thing for jerks, Sousuke," Rin says pointedly. "Seems like Makoto does, too."

He hears Sousuke inhale, and it takes him a while to respond. "Are you still coming to the airport?"

"If I can."

"Cool. Now I just have to find something to do until we leave. I don't know if I can handle seeing Nanase right now."

Rin smirks. "Jealous?"

"Among other things. You know what would cheer me up?"

"I have a couple ideas." Rin glances at the toy box. Mamiko makes no indication of waking up. "But I'm babysitting, and this kid's seen enough inappropriate shit today."

"Like what?"

"Mako and Haru had a quickie in the change rooms at the mall today."

"Ah," Sousuke chuckles. "Sounds like fun."

"Fuck, Makoto's changed so much, though. I never could've imagined him doing shit like this."

"I dunno. I think you'd be surprised. He sure seemed innocent when I met him, scared of the dark and all that, but underneath he's always kinda been like this. Just took a while for him to start showing his true colours."

Rin considers this. Yes, it has been a long time since he's seen Makoto, and he really hadn't spent much time with him since...well, since the Iwatobi Swim Club, honestly. How much of Makoto did Rin not know about? "Killer whale..."

"Huh?"

"We used to have a joke back in high school that Makoto's like an orca."

"That's pretty apt for him, actually. And what were you?"

"A shark."

An actual laugh. "That fits you bang on. Misunderstood, angry king of the sea."

"Don't forget the teeth."

"Right." The sound of the phone shifting- "That's kinda hot."

"Yeah." Rin picks the toy tiara up off his belly, admiring the way the fake gems catch the light. "I'm not the king, though. I'm the princess."

"The princess?" Sousuke sounds confused for the first time.

"Yup. I've been hanging out with a little girl all day. I've been officially crowned and everything."

"Matsuoka Rin in a crown. This I have to see."

"I'm not fucking wearing it to the airport."

"Send me a picture."

Rin sits up, spinning the tiara around on his finger. "Fine. I should get off the phone anyway."

"Okay. And when you're alone, send me a photo I can jack off to. If I'm gonna be holed up in my room all evening I might as well enjoy myself."

"I'm a princess, not a sex slave." Memories of the previous evening, bound to Sousuke's bed frame and gagged, come unsolicited into Rin's head, making his stomach clench and his cheeks heat.

"...That just makes me picture you in a Princess Leia bikini."

It's probably way better for his health if Rin doesn't imagine wearing a skimpy costume like that, imagine Sousuke tying him up, imagine Sousuke's face darkened with lust...because that's not a road he's prepared to go down at this stage. "You are seriously fucked up. Goodbye."

"Just send the photo." And then he hangs up. Rin's used to it; over his vast wealth of experience saying goodbye, he's learned that some people just can't handle them. Sometimes saying nothing is easier for people. Being called fucked up doesn't help either, Rin thinks with a touch of guilt.

He checks on Mamiko on his way to the bathroom- she's knocked out cold, mouth open, drooling onto a stuffy shaped like a butterfly. Rei's going to have his work cut out for him if she grows up to be anything like Nagisa, and it sure seems like she's headed in that direction.

Getting to the washroom, Rin finds a brush and fixes his hair, setting the tiara on top. It doesn't look half bad, either. But better not to fuss too much with his appearance; he's never really cared what he looks like, and this is supposed to be a joke picture, anyway. Still, to be on the safe side, better make it a snapchat. Not that he doesn't trust Sousuke...okay, so he doesn't entirely trust Sousuke. 

Holding up his middle and index fingers in a peace sign next to his face, Rin does his best impression of Mamiko, smiling into his phone's camera lens and snapping the shot. _I'm a princess, bitch_ he types into the caption slot. I'm a princess, and don't you ever fucking forget it. One way or another, Rin's determined not to let Sousuke forget about him. He wants to be the last booty call Sousuke ever has.

It occurs to Rin that he forgot to make Sousuke answer a question about himself. Revealing his Princess Leia fantasy doesn't fucking count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously sorry. I have no idea what I was thinking with this. It just kinda came out, like word diarrhea.
> 
> You can yell at me at [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Here's a (terrible) picture of [Rin's snapchat,](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/post/104107962551/holding-up-his-middle-and-index-fingers-in-a-peace) drawn by yours truly.


	20. Strong For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru seems unfazed, plucking one of Makoto's folded t-shirts out of his bag. "I'm keeping this."
> 
> "What for? It won't even fit you."
> 
> "I don't care. My old one is falling apart."
> 
> Makoto cocks his head to the side, confused. "Your old two-sizes-too-big-for-you shirt?"
> 
> "My old Makoto shirt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno. Boyfriends being boyfriends, I guess. Doin the frickfrack (I basically forget how to write anything that isn't porn).

Haru suffers from a strange mixture of elation and anxiety for the rest of their makeshift date together. As the time of Makoto’s departure creeps closer, Haru feels worse and worse, his stomach tightening angrily whenever he thinks of it. Which is about every thirty seconds.

Makoto’s on-edge attitude today isn’t helping, either. In high school, Haru had always found Makoto’s presence calming and relaxing; he’d depended on him for support. Now he’s snappish and cantankerous, the slightest thing setting him off. Haru doesn’t want to talk anymore. He just wants to go home, to bed, where he can relax naked in Makoto’s arms, warm skin and hungry kisses conveying the emotions between them. He wishes Makoto never had to leave.

“Haru, I’m talking to you.”

Haru sighs, knocked out of his thoughts. Makoto frowns slightly, eyes serious. “You have chocolate on your face,” Haru says.

“I do?” Makoto swipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, dangerously tilting remnants of the dessert crepe in his hand. Some of the filling spills onto his shirt. “Fuck.”

“You’re still so clumsy,” Haru remarks, mouth twitching in a smile despite himself.

Makoto scratches the back of his head with his free hand, trying hard not to look too discouraged at the blob of whipped cream and chocolate that looks remarkably like bird crap. “I need to go change my shirt.”

Haru eyes him levelly. “You could take it off.”

“Haruu! I can’t just walk around in public with no shirt. I’m going home to change.”

Haru feels a stab of panic. “I’m coming with you.”

Makoto’s eyes widen, then his face softens. “Sure. You can stay for dinner and everything. Right up until I have to leave.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, staring at it for a moment. “Uh, can you hold this?” He hands the rest of his crepe out to Haru.

Haru takes it, letting his hand linger on Makoto’s for longer than it needs to. Feeling his warmth, the surprising roughness of his skin.

“I’m just gonna tell Sousuke and Kisumi you’re coming,” Makoto murmurs. 

Haru’s hopes fall. “They’ll be there?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t think either of them has even started packing yet.”

 _Cockblockers._ “…Damn.”

Makoto gives a slow blink. “Haru, how can you still be horny? Are you popping Viagra behind my back or something? Not that I don’t love it, but I’m starting to feel…I don’t know.” His voice takes on the pissy edge it’s had all morning. “We can’t even get through lunch with our friends.”

Haru huffs, shaking his head, trying to summon the right words. He should have expected Makoto to worry about things like that. “I…you know how I get. With things I love.”

“Yeah, I just…sometimes I wonder if you love me, or the sex.” Makoto scowls. “The only times we say we love each other are during or after it. And to be fair, we…we aren’t even really in a relationship, maybe we shouldn’t be saying it all so early, it feels so-”

“Makoto.” Haru stops in the middle of the path, realizing he’s still carrying Makoto’s food. He twists a piece off and tosses it at a couple of pigeons pecking in the grass to the side.

Makoto watches the arch of the sugary projectile as it sails through the air, fidgeting with loose thread on his shirt. His downturned eyes are filled with worry, his mouth slightly open. Haru wishes he knew how to take all of Makoto’s troubles away. How to get his nicotine cravings to stop.

With another deep breath, Haru opens his mouth, forcing words out. It’s difficult for him, but not as difficult as losing Makoto again would be. “I’m only having sex with you _because_ I love you.”

“But how? How can you know you love me when it’s so soon?”

This time, Haru smiles. It’s as though the years are slipping off Makoto’s frame, the frigid hardness in his eyes melting away, all the anger and pain and experience gone, leaving behind the awkward, clumsy seventeen-year-old who still hasn’t adjusted to his rapidly growing body, who still doesn’t know anything except that he loves swimming with his friends. The breeze ruffles Makoto’s hair, highlighting the anxious furrow of his brow. 

“I just know,” Haru says, struck by a sudden sense of serenity. “I know I love you. I’m only going to love you more as the days go by. I don’t need to wait to say it.”

Makoto’s mouth trembles, and he presses it into a hard line, blinking hard. Haru can tell how scared he is. Seeing Makoto so vulnerable when he’s been presenting such a rough front these last few weeks (and such a douchy one today) makes Haru’s heart try to beat itself right out of his chest. 

“You don’t need to force yourself to keep saying it back. I can wait.”

“No, no,” Makoto shakes his head. “I think I feel the same way. It’s like…”

“We’re picking up where we left off,” Haru finishes.

“Exactly,” Makoto says, finally smiling.

“Except the sex is better.”

“Haru,” Makoto chuckles, side-eyeing him. They resume their walk at a leisurely pace. “...I used to think about you when I masturbated.”

Haru smirks at the image that elicits in his mind. Makoto after school, still in his uniform with that green tie that set off his eyes, pants pulled down around his thighs, back down on the bed, pressing his arm against his mouth so his ragged moaning wouldn’t alert his parents, the fear of the twins banging on the door at any moment spurring him to stroke faster. “Used to?”

“I don’t need to do it so much these days. I don't know why,” Makoto replies, feigning confusion. “It’s weird…”

Haru wants to know more. He wants to know everything. “What about me would you think about?”

“Well,” Makoto says, eyes going distant. “I guess it would depend on my mood. But…your hips, usually. I’ve always thought they were…amazing.” He sighs. “Mostly it was the aura you gave off when you swam, though.”

“My aura?”

Makoto smiles. “Yeah. You always got so relaxed when you were in the water, and you swam like a mermaid. Everyone thought so.” Haru notices Makoto’s fist clench. “I used to have to try so hard not to get jealous. Especially back when Rei joined. He’d never shut up about how beautiful you were. And you could also be so intense during a race! It used to drive me crazy the way you’d get with Rin.”

Haru thinks back. “Is that why you asked to race me?”

“Yes,” Makoto admits without a moment’s hesitation. “I wanted to know if you’d have the same kind of passion if it was with me. You beat me and everything, but it just wasn’t the same.”

“Because I didn’t feel the same way for you as I did for Rin.”

“I know,” Makoto snaps.

“No,” Haru says. “You don’t know. You were the most important person in my life. I didn’t want to compete with you...I used to sit in the tub waiting for you every morning on purpose.”

Makoto turns to look, narrowly avoiding tripping over a loose brick in the path. “I thought you just loved baths. And torturing me with your half-naked wetness.”

“I do love baths,” Haru answers. “But I also wanted to…feel wanted.”

And then Makoto’s warm hand catches Haru’s, his thick fingers twining through Haru’s, holding tightly to him. Their hands swing slightly between them as they continue to walk. It feels so natural, holding hands with Makoto; he’s already let Makoto touch every part of him, the parts nobody else is allowed to. It’s also new, exciting. People stare at them as they walk by, and Haru finds he doesn’t give a single shit. Not like he would if they were looking at Nagisa like that.

“You were wanted,” Makoto tells him softly. “I wanted you for a long time.”

“I wish you hadn’t left,” Haru finds himself blurting. “I wish you weren’t going now.” _There are so many things left to do with you. So many things I have to figure out how to say._

Makoto stops and pulls Haru close by the hand, kissing the top of his head. “You’re so cute.”

“So are you,” Haru volleys back, as though it’s an insult. He can tell Makoto doesn’t want to talk about his impending departure, and Haru figures that’s probably for the best. It’s too depressing. He thrusts his full hand towards Makoto’s face, as though the pastry can shield him from engaging in deeper conversation. “Are you ever going to eat the rest of this?”

“Oh, I forgot about it,” Makoto smiles, lifting Haru’s hand in his own and taking a bite. He chews, his eyes closed, sighing slightly in delight. He’s always been a chocolate lover. So some things never change. Haru can’t look away. “Maybe I’ll take up crepes instead of cigarettes.”

“You still eat when you’re stressed?”

“Usually I have a smoke,” Makoto replies tartly. “Ugh, I’m going to gain so much weight from this, aren’t I," he says, lapsing into a whine. "I forgot about that.”

Haru tries his hardest not to let his mouth twitch into a smile. "I wouldn't mind if you got a bit thicker."

Makoto shoots him an offended look. "Thicker, Haru? _Thicker?_ "

That's right. Haru had forgotten how self-conscious Makoto used to be about his weight, since he'd been exuding nothing but sexy confidence during all their nude encounters. Makoto isn't fat, not by a long shot- he never had been, but it's true that Makoto's bigger, more squarish build sometimes set him apart from the others, especially as a swimmer. Even in peak physical condition, Makoto had never had a trim, slim waist like the rest of them. 

Haru takes a moment to sweep his eyes over Makoto's clothed figure, imagining him standing there naked. His shoulders have broadened even further since high-school, and he's certainly gotten a little taller. He's probably pushing 6'2 now, and his muscles are still prominent, but bulkier, more mature, the small amount of weight he's gained since quitting swimming simply padding and filling out his musculature. He's strong and solid, like a draft horse, with arms that can hold Haru up, that can embrace him tightly, that can break him, but are gentle and trustworthy enough not to. And his wide, powerful thighs...In Haru's opinion, Makoto's never looked better. 

"I love how you look," Haru says, prying his eyes away before he starts to drool. "But I wouldn't care if you gained fifty pounds. I'd still love you."

"I'll try and keep it under ten," Makoto jokes. It comes out rather strained.

“I’m surprised you’re actually trying to quit,” Haru admits. The effort Makoto’s making is truly touching, even if Haru fully expects him to cave the minute he gets out of the airport in Tokyo.

Makoto takes the rest of the food out of Haru's hand, clearly ignoring his weight-related worries in favour of instant, delicious gratification, taking another huge bite and swallowing it before answering. “Mom’s been bugging me to stop for years. And I know it’s bad for me, so I should give it a try. I don’t want to be a bad example for the twins, either.”

“They come into the restaurant all the time,” Haru says. He’d seen them just last week; they’d come in with a group of friends. “Especially Ran.”

“She has a crush on you. She did always say she was going to marry you when she grew up.”

Haru pauses. “Have you told your family about me?”

“Not yet. I’m not ready.” Makoto strokes Haru’s hand with his thumb, still holding it firmly in his own. “They’ll be thrilled, though. They all love you.”

Haru takes note not to say anything the next time he runs into any members of the Tachibana family. It won’t be hard, given Haru’s minimalistic conversation style. But he’s not into lying, so he’ll be extra careful not to let anything slip, just in case.

“I’m guessing you haven’t told yours,” Makoto continues. “Do they even know you’re…that you like men?”

“I don’t like men. I like Makoto.” Still, Haru supposes he’ll have to tell them eventually. They play such a small role in his life that hadn’t even thought about it.

“I can be there for you when you do, if you want."

Haru really can't stop smiling now. He suspects he probably looks pretty stupid with a permanent smirk stamped across his features, but he can't help it. "That's okay."

"If you're sure," Makoto says. "Uh, I mean, about family..."

Haru waits expectantly for the rest of his boyfriend's thought. _His boyfriend. Makoto._

"Hidemind is like my family," he continues tentatively. "I've been good friends with Sou and Kisumi for years. I know you've met them briefly, but tonight I get to finally introduce you guys properly." Haru can sense Makoto's nervous about it. "I hope you like them."

Haru's pretty sure the real problem lies in _them_ not liking _him_.

 

 

As it turns out, Haru hates both of them from the minute he follows Makoto through the door; in Sousuke’s case, just picking up where they left off. Sousuke leans against the wall, arms crossed, wearing a frown harder than stone. 

The drummer, Kisumi- the one who both looks and smells like a piece of Bubblicious- runs up to them immediately upon their entrance, draping his arm across Haru's shoulders. 

"So you're Mako's boyfriend! Haru-chan, right?" He doesn't pause for an answer before talking to Makoto like Haru's not even there. "I didn't get a good look at him before, he's really cute! Nice job."

Haru bristles, trying to shrug Kisumi's arm off. He is not okay with strangers touching him. It has nothing to do with how jealous he is that Kisumi has such a close bond with Makoto. Nothing. “Don’t call me -chan.” While generally Haru’s over his vehement “drop-the-chan” phase, he’s not going to put up with such familiarity from this guy.

Kisumi isn’t at all deterred, removing his arm but beaming happily. “It’s so cool to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Haru shifts his gaze to Makoto, questioning. Makoto splays his hands in the air in front of himself. “Not a _lot_. It’s not like I said anything really bad,” he defends himself.

Sousuke makes a sound deep in the back of his throat, like he’s suppressing a laugh. Haru glares at him, feeling caged in. Threatened. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Sou,” Makoto says, voice low. They meet each other’s eyes in silence for a few long moments.

“Yeah, I can’t handle this,” Sousuke finally replies, pushing himself off of the wall and moving toward the hall, throwing a sour glance back over his shoulder. “I can’t be around him.” A door slams shut a few seconds later.

“Wow,” Kisumi breathes. “That was pretty bad.” He turns to Haru, clapping his shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’s just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Haru spits. Jealous of _what_?

Kisumi tilts his head and blinks, eyes flickering toward Makoto. “Oh, you didn’t tell him…” He snatches his hand back, which Haru’s glad for. “…Shit.”

Haru’s sense of apprehension inflates like a balloon, tightening his chest. He doesn’t like where he suspects this conversation is going; he’s been suspicious of Sousuke’s relationship with Makoto since the beginning, but that doesn’t make hearing it any less painful.

“Haru, we need to talk,” Makoto says.

He doesn’t want to hear it. “No.”

“Yes,” Makoto replies firmly. “It’s important. I should have told you earlier…”

“You’re fucking him.” 

Makoto doesn’t answer, but the truth is written all over his face. “Not anymore.”

Haru tries to bite back his fury, but can't; it swells inside him until he's shaking, the words he wants to say bubbling under the surface, just out of reach.

"Sooo...I'm gonna go," Kisumi whistles apologetically. Makoto nods and he retreats in the direction Sousuke had previously gone. "I'm really sorry!" They wait as Kisumi's footsteps recede and a door thumps shut. Haru can't even look at Makoto, he's so mad.

"I'm not with him anymore," Makoto says carefully, soothingly. "I mean, not that I was ever _with_ him." 

Haru hates being patronized. He takes one last look at Makoto's face before turning on his heel, making straight for the front door. He's not going to make a scene about one of Makoto's past relationships. No. He's not. He's not a child. He's going to go home and take a bath so he can calm down.

"Haru, stop," Makoto growls, catching his wrist. "I am not letting you run away this time. You aren't leaving until we talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" Haru explodes.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Makoto pleads, "really. But there's nothing between us. We're just friends."

That's the problem. Haru's envious of the friendship Sousuke shares with Makoto, the closeness. The connection he had once had with Makoto has been transferred to someone else; completely reasonable- Makoto was bound to move on, but knowing this doesn't stop Haru's stomach from clenching at every word, like he's being punched. He used to be Makoto's best friend, and now he's just...his long-distance boyfriend. His pen pal. "There's not _nothing_ between you."

Makoto's grip on Haru's wrist softens, until Haru could pull away if he wanted to. He doesn't. He wishes Makoto would apply more pressure. As selfish as it is, Haru likes it when Makoto forcibly tries to pin him down. It means he doesn't want him to leave. After being left behind and forgotten so many times in his life, Haru's desperate for someone to cling to. For someone to cling to _him_.

"Haru," Makoto says gently. " _You're_ the one I love."

Haru teeters. If he runs from this, like he wants to, nothing will ever change. He wants change. This time, he's determined, focus fixed on his goal- Makoto. Tired of running, tired of being alone, tired of living his life without Makoto in it; Haru falls into Makoto's arms, digging his fingers into the back of his shirt, burying his face in Makoto's neck, wishing he could absorb Makoto through his skin, like water. He needs to push thoughts of Sousuke out of his head before he loses it again. "...I want one of your shirts."

Makoto wraps his arms around Haru, engulfing him tightly, ruffling his hair. "...What?"

"You said you had to change, didn't you?" Haru tugs at Makoto's sleeve. "I want the one you're wearing."

"But it's dirty." Haru likes the way Makoto's voice sounds when he's baffled. It's so nostalgic.

"I want one that smells like you," Haru explains. 

Makoto tightens his embrace, taking a deep breath next to Haru's ear. It tickles a little, but Haru doesn't move. "I have cleaner ones that smell like me." He pulls away, taking Haru's hand. "Come on."

And Haru's proud of himself for the way he managed the situation this time, for the fact that he's being led toward Makoto's bedroom instead of running down the sidewalk on his own, trying not to cry, knowing he'll probably never see the man he loves again.

Makoto's room is fairly small, the furniture, including the bedspread, all in place. A pre-furnished condo. Makoto's suitcase and a couple of smaller bags are stacked in the middle of the floor. "It's mostly clothes," he says, bending down to unzip one of the bags. "We don't bring a whole lot with us other than our instruments."

"What brought you to Iwatobi in the first place?"

Makoto smiles, rifling through his bag. "That's a funny story, actually. We played for my second cousin's birthday a couple of years ago, and one of the people there owns the lounge. I guess he needed someone as a fill this month because the band he had lined up dropped out. It worked out well for us; he put us up here and we played for free. I agreed since I'd get to see my family."

Haru crouches down beside him, eyeing the clothes Makoto produces. He likes hearing about Makoto's job. "So you didn't make any money?"

"Not this time," he shrugs. "But look what the PR did for us! We're going to be making some serious money with this contract. You know what that means?"

"No."

Makoto leans in and presses his lips to Haru's. "It means I can afford to visit whenever I get a chance," he murmurs.

Haru grabs the front of his shirt, running his tongue over Makoto's bottom lip. Makoto parts his lips obligingly, sweeping his own tongue into Haru's mouth, and Haru loses track of time, of where he is, of himself, pushing Makoto so he's leaning against the bed, Haru straddling his lap, running his hands over Makoto's chest.

"Mmm...Haru, not right now, we're supposed to be having dinner," Makoto sighs, making no move to stop him. 

"Your friends don't like me anyway," Haru says, slipping his hand up Makoto's shirt. "And you said you had to change."

 

 

"Ahhh, Haruuu..." Makoto gasps, holding on tightly to the bedspread behind him with one hand, the other entwined in Haru's hair. He sits on the floor, back against the bed, his legs spread and bent at the knees bare toes pressing into the hardwood for purchase. Haru lays before him, on his stomach, head bobbing up and down as he takes Makoto's dick in his mouth, down the base and back out, pausing only to swirl his tongue over the tip and flick the sensitive spot at the back. "Keep doing that."

But Haru doesn't listen, pulling his mouth off with a pop. He looks up at Makoto with glimmering eyes, pupils blown wide. "I want to fuck you."

Makoto shivers, the air cold on his wet dick. "You wanna fuck me, huh?" His dick throbs as he remembers Haru's early morning experiment from the day before. "Go for it. God, Haru, I want your cock." 

Haru's eyes shine, his cheeks tinged pink, like he's just gotten a most unexpected surprise. For that matter, he probably has. "Is the lube in your bag?"

"I'll get it." Makoto leans forward to tug one of his bags closer, reaching to the bottom for his little box. He pulls it out and unlocks it, observing Haru out of the corner of his eye. He watches without saying a word, but Makoto can tell he's curious. "By the way," he says offhandedly, "I'm going to be bringing this with me whenever I visit. I'm going to teach you how to use all this stuff."

Haru responds by pushing himself onto his knees, unzipping his pants and tugging them down around his hips, his hard cock springing free. "Makoto. Hurry."

Makoto smiles. "Oh. Does seeing this turn you on?"

"Yes," Haru deadpans, reaching down to leisurely stroke his erection. "You use them on yourself?"

"Yeah," Makoto says, tossing Haru the lube. His hole is already twitching in anticipation. God, Haru's so beautiful, his dick hard and red, leaking already. While Haru opens the lube and slicks his fingers, Makoto kicks his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, his erection slapping heavily against his belly. He can't wait for Haru to touch him, to get inside. 

Haru bends down, kissing a trail up Makoto's inner thigh, sliding his wet hand down the other one. Makoto leans back, using the bed frame for support, and hooks his hands under his ass, spreading himself. "Uuhh, Haru, fuck me. I've been waiting for this all fucking day."

He loves the gaze Haru shoots him, looking up through his thick lashes. He runs his hand up Makoto's bare chest, his shirt abandoned long ago, and Makoto's skin prickles at the heat, as though Haru's charging him with electricity. 

And then Haru's kissing him, nudging his delicate index finger against Makoto's hole, circling it before pressing it in. "More," Makoto spurs him, clenching down. Haru obliges him at once, sliding a second finger in, thrusting his fingers in and out, curling them deep inside Makoto's ass. "Left," Makoto gasps, trying not to sound too needy. He reaches down and clasps Haru's wrist, guiding him until he brushes the right spot. "There."

Haru scissors his fingers inside, pressing straight against his prostate, plunging in and out with a series of lewd squelches. Makoto spreads his legs as wide as he can, wanting Haru deeper, harder, faster. "I can take three," he gasps, thighs already quivering in anticipation. Haru stuffs in a third digit and Makoto groans, letting Haru push him down onto the floor. He catches the back of both knees in his hands, pulling them as close to his chest as possible, hoping Haru can get deeper. He can. "Oh, god, yes!"

To his surprise and slight annoyance, Haru pulls his fingers out and sits back on his heels, staring with a blank expression. The longer he stares without talking, the more turned on Makoto gets, until his body feels like it's on fire, his dick twitching and dripping precum onto his chest, his hole quivering. "Haru," he groans. "I'll use one of my toys if I have to."

"Sorry," Haru mumbles, eyes snapping back into focus. "Your thighs are so...big."

"H-Haru! Don't tell me that," Makoto complains. "I don't make fun of you during sex. G-"

"I'm not making fun of you," Haru replies, voice dripping with desire. "I love them."

Makoto feels a thrill jolt straight to his cock at the way Haru's acting today. "Then get between them already," he growls. "I'm so fucking hard for y-" He's cut off by his own moan as Haru leans over him, pushing his cock against Makoto's slick hole. He manages to push it in after a few tries, thrusting it deep, until his hipbones are flush against Makoto's ass. 

"Ohhh, fuck," Makoto groans, breath hitching. He reaches up on the bed, dragging the pillow down over the edge. He doesn't care if the sheets have just been washed, even if that's why they aren't using the bed. "Hang on." 

Haru huffs his irritation but does as Makoto asks; Makoto wraps his legs around Haru's waist as he shifts, maneuvering the pillow under his hips. "Now?" Haru asks in a strained voice.

"Yeah," Makoto breathes, laying back and taking hold of his knees again. Haru continues thrusting before Makoto's even laying down, undulating his hips as naturally as if he's swimming. Makoto enjoys the hot pressure, wiggling his body to accommodate it, trying to shift the angle just a bit- he can't suppress his moan when Haru finally hits his sweet spot. "There," he commands, holding tight to his shaky legs. "Faster. _Hard_." He rocks his hips back and forth to meet each thrust, Haru's thoroughly lubed cock slipping in and out easily.

Haru picks up an unrelenting rhythm, fucking himself desperately into Makoto's body, and Makoto curls his toes as they start to go numb, moaning and squirming as he feels his release approach. Haru locks eyes with him, breathing hitched, face red from his efforts, before leaning down to press a kiss to Makoto's lips, gently biting his lower lip as he snaps his hips forward, hitting Makoto just so.

"Oh, god, HARUUUUKAAA," Makoto cries, throwing his head back on the hard floor, gripping his sweat-slicked thighs and rocking his hips as pleasure tears through his body. He trembles and shakes, toes spasming, vision blurring as he clenches down again and again, the force of his orgasm shooting come up his chest and spattering across his own face. Haru continues to move, body tense, shivering and moaning lewdly as he empties himself into Makoto.

Haru pulls out and stretches out on the floor beside Makoto, huddling close. Makoto holds him, trying to catch his breath. He wishes Haru wasn't still mostly dressed. "You called me Haruka," Haru notes after a while.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says. "I wasn't thinking."

"Good," Haru replies, mouth curled in a smile.

Makoto pushes his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. "Don't go getting too confident on me. You're good, but you still have a lot to learn."

"Yes, Coach Tachibana." The smile gets even wider. 

"Such as trimming your nails, Nanase Haru-ka," Makoto teases, glad his face is already so flushed. He'd definitely be blushing, otherwise. _Coach Tachibana_. He likes the sound of that. He barely has the last syllable past his lips before Haru's kissing them, slow and comfortable this time. "Mmm..." Wait.

Makoto sits bolt upright, straining his ears. Yes, he can definitely hear loud noises coming from the room beside his. Loud, gasping, pornographic noises, and the constant rap of a bedframe banging into the wall. 

"Rin," Haru says.

"How do you know what Rin sounds like?" When the hell had Rin arrived?

Haru shrugs. "I can tell it's his voice."

"That's creepy," Makoto says, stretching out his back. He waits for his spine to give a satisfactory crack before reaching for his crumpled, dirty shirt and using it to try to clean the mess up from between his legs. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Half past five," Haru replies, checking his phone.

"Shit, Haru, I really have to get going soon," Makoto laments, pulling on his pants and the first clean shirt he can find. Rin gives a particularly loud cry through the wall, which Makoto pointedly ignores. He's used to Sousuke bringing guys home, and even Kisumi has occasional female company, but the fact that it's Rin makes him blush.

Haru seems unfazed, plucking one of Makoto's folded t-shirts out of his bag. "I'm keeping this."

"What for? It won't even fit you."

"I don't care. My old one is falling apart."

Makoto cocks his head to the side, confused. "Your old two-sizes-too-big-for-you shirt?"

"My old Makoto shirt."

Makoto freezes in the middle of hauling himself to his feet. "...What?"

"I have that yellow and orange shirt you used to wear," Haru tells him, as if he's explaining something as simple as one plus one equals two. "It's falling apart."

All Makoto can do is stare, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then the show happening in the next room seems to reach act two, prompting Makoto to offer Haru his hand and pull him to his feet. Haru adjusts his pants, gripping his new shirt in one hand, re-fastening his belt. 

"I can't believe you had my shirt this whole time," Makoto finally manages. "Do you have any idea how hard I looked for that thing? I thought my mom donated it or something. It was my favourite!"

"Mine too," Haru says, following Makoto down the hall and away from the ungodly noise. Makoto catches a familiar, heavy scent hanging in the air, but ignores it. Sousuke always does whatever the hell he pleases, and if he gets held up at the airport for making stupid choices, it isn't Makoto's fault. 

Kisumi sits alone at the dining room table with his back turned to them, headphones on, moving his head to the beat. He holds chopsticks in one hand, an enormous spread of delivery food lying out in front of him. Suddenly Makoto's hungry again. Right. They still haven't had dinner.

"That's a lot of food," Makoto says, sitting at the table across from his friend. He motions for Haru to take the seat beside him, which he does, mercifully. 

Kisumi tugs his headphones off, letting them hang around his neck. Music blares from them, loud enough to account for the unnecessary volume of Kisumi's next sentence. "Hey! I got us some food."

"We noticed," Haru says dryly.

"Help yourself!" He turns to Makoto. "So that Rin guy showed up."

"Yeah, we could hear him," Makoto replies, watching Haru take up Kisumi's offer, snapping apart a pair of cheap chopsticks and pulling a Styrofoam container of food towards himself. He grabs some utensils for himself, eyeing the food.

Kisumi smiles grimly. "I could hear all of you. Also, you abandoned our dinner plans. Pretty rude," he tuts. "Oh! But that means you guys aren't fighting anymore, right?"

"I guess I'll forgive him," Haru says flatly, bringing a piece of pork up to his mouth.

Makoto smiles, meeting Haru's sparkling eyes. He feels as though he's being forgiven his mistakes for the last ten years combined, a huge weight lifting from his shoulders. "I forgive you, too, dear." He's not sure why he tacks the endearment on at the end, but it feels natural, only half teasing. And Makoto finally realizes that he has. He's forgiven everything.

Haru seems pleased enough, the corners of his mouth twitching as he chews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The SouRin side in the next chapter. Because I'm SouRin love with those idiots.
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/) if you have a bone to pick, a request or suggestion for the fic, or just wanna talk.


	21. Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Y’know, that’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do right before you have to fly."
> 
> Sousuke lifts his head up, focusing groggily in Rin’s direction. “Shit,” he says seriously, his expression so shocked it’s comical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. SouRin. And social issues. That's what you wanted, right? Cool.

Mamiko's awake and louder than ever when Rei and Nagisa come through the door. Energized by her nap, she'd gone into the bathroom while Rin wasn't paying attention and decided to decorate her face with diaper cream. Not to be outdone, Rin had followed suit, letting her rub her messy little hands all over his face until he bore a striking resemblance to a banana cream pie. Rei stops short, blinking as he stares at the pair of them. Nagisa holds his sides, laughing hysterically. "Are you two starting a theater troupe?"

"Dad! Daddy," Mamiko cries, running toward them and reaching her arms up toward Rei. Rei concedes and lifts her into his arms, wearing an amused smile that rapidly transforms into a frown as his daughter nuzzles her face into the front of his suit jacket, leaving white, chalky streaks on it.

"Excellent," Rei mutters. Nagisa laughs even harder.

"Sorry," Rin says. "I was gonna have her cleaned up. You're earlier than I thought."

"I convinced him to come home early," Nagisa informs him, clapping Rei's ass. Rei hardly reacts to things like that anymore, which Rin thinks it's even cuter than when he used to get flustered and try to jump out of his own skin. Rei's changed so much, come so far from the awkward, misfit butterfly he used to be.

"I wasn't being particularly productive at work anyway," Rei admits, wiping a smudge from Mamiko's nose with his thumb, pure adoration lighting his eyes. She wrinkles her nose and giggles, delighted. Nagisa hangs onto Rei's arm, smile stretching his features, eyes only for his husband and daughter. 

They present such a touching tableau that Rin has to clear his throat to keep himself from tearing up. "Told you he'd like the dress."

Nagisa's eyes sparkle. "Worked like a charm! Except the corset's getting kinda itchy."

Rin pales. Right. The corset. He still feels somewhat uncomfortable from having helped Nagisa pick it out. _But Rinrin, girls get their friend's opinions all the time!_ And Rin eventually gave in, because he always does where his best friend is concerned. Besides, Nagisa looked absolutely tantalizing in that corset. It was the _one_. That much couldn't be ignored.

"I'm gonna go change, babe," Nagisa says to Rei. "And I'll wash ladybug up."

Rei gives Nagisa a peck on the lips as he transfers Mamiko into his arms. "I'll have to change my jacket, as well."

"I'll bring your grey one out," Nagisa replies, taking their daughter toward the bathroom, turning his attention to her. "We're going out for dinner, Ma-chan!"

"YAAAY!" she screams, clapping.

The second they're around the corner, the water in the bathroom running, Rei turns. "I really appreciate you taking care of Nagisa today," he says. "I always do. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Rin sets his hands on his hips, scowling even as his heart swells. "You'd be fine. You guys would make it work."

"That's probably true," Rei says. "But you definitely relieve some of the pressure."

Rin grins. "As long as you two are happy, I'm happy."

"We are. Very. Despite Nagisa's best attempts to get me fired today." Rei scrapes at the stain on his jacket with a well manicured nail, succeeding only in rubbing it in deeper. "I want to let you know that I'm always prepared to reciprocate the favour, if you need it."

"It's not a favour, Rei," Rin says, shoving his hands into his pockets just for something to do with them. "It's what friends do."

Rei returns his smile pleasantly. "Of course! I just meant...well, I heard from Nagisa about your relationship with Makoto-senpai's bandmate. If you'd ever like to discuss things, I'm offering my ear."

Rin raises his eyebrows, surprised. Rei generally shies away from other people's relationship talk, rationalizing that it's none of his business. Haru's no more talkative, and Nagisa's usually only useful for talking about kinks and sex toys, resulting in a couple of conversations Rin still wishes he could erase from the fabric of history, but can't. Ai is the one Rin depends on most when he needs real, useful advice.

But Rei has been one half of a working relationship for the better part of a decade, he's reasonable (when he's calm) and he could be a true asset if Rin needed someone- now that Ai's working with Seijuro to prepare to swim for Japan at the Olympic level, it can be rather hard to get ahold of him.

"Thanks," Rin says. "But, uh, what brought this on?"

Rei puffs up, wearing his trademark confident smile. "I tried giving some advice to Makoto-senpai the other day. It turned out rather well. I might have a knack for giving relationship advice."

Rin can't help himself. He snorts. "You could get your own show. Ryuugazaki's Relationship Radio."

"I don't think broadcasting jobs generally pay very well," Rei says in utmost seriousness. "It's best if I stay at my current job."

Not for the first time, Rin laments the fact that Rei ended up with such a mundane office job. He may be good at it- that's why he'd been promoted so quickly, after all- but it didn't suit him. Rei had once boasted to Rin that he was going to take over the world with his butterfly stroke, his accompanying villainous laughter echoing through Samezuka's indoor pool. To have someone with such a colourful personality trapped in an office all day long- it didn't sit well. "Life ain't all about money, you know."

"Yes, I'm fully aware of that," Rei replies. "But it _is_ about my family. The mortgage and bills need to be paid every month so they can live in comfort."

"Yeah, well I'm glad Nagisa convinced you to take a break. He worries about you. Karoshi and all that, y'know?"

"I am not going to overwork myself that badly," Rei says, pushing up his glasses and glossing over the "incident" he'd had a few months after first starting work. "Nagisa and I have an agreement that I am not allowed to accept more than four hours of overtime per week. No matter how much income it would provide." 

"It's not like you don't have a high salary," Rin comments, slightly curious, but not wanting to pry. "And Nagisa works, too."

"True, but adoption isn't cheap, and neither is raising two children. Nagisa told me he told you our plans."

"Yeah, he did...how are you guys gonna do that, anyway?" Adoption between gay couples isn't legal in Japan. Rin knows the only reason they have Mamiko is because she's related to Nagisa by blood, and legally, Nagisa is her only guardian. Her official name is Hazuki Mamiko, a point that Rei has always seemed fine with, but often got Nagisa fired up during discussions. It pissed Rin off that his own fucking country wouldn't let Rei legally adopt his daughter. Nobody in the world would ever love and take care of her better than Rei and Nagisa. Her fathers. Together. 

Rei takes a deep breath. "I've been considering that for quite some time. The government deems single-parent adoption acceptable, so we'll just have to...pretend. Again. For a while."

Rin's blood boils as he remembers the ridiculous lengths the two of them had to go through to get Mamiko. Pretending they weren't a couple. This time would only be worse, since the child wouldn't be related. But if any couple in the world is determined and equipped enough to get a baby, it's Rei and Nagisa. Rin has no doubt they'll figure it out. "That's really shitty," Rin says. "It's wrong."

"Perhaps things will change soon," Rei replies, his voice full of that enduring hope Rin likes so much. "I think we're going to try for a child with disabilities. The government is usually more helpful in those cases because they're seen as less desirable."

"That..." Rin swallows hard. The disabled kids, the emotionally unstable ones. The tattered and torn, the refuse. These are the kids that trickle in and out of foster homes, experiment with drugs and prostitution, and end up on the streets, in danger. These are the youths Rin spends his days trying to help. The enormity of their global predicament is enough to crush Rin's spirit, some days. His eyes water. "That's a huge responsibility, y'know."

"Of course I know," Rei tells him. "It's one we're prepared to take on together. But it's also the reason karoshi isn't an option for me. Neither is getting fired," he says sternly, raising his voice.

"Babe, you're not getting fired," Nagisa's muffled voice fires back. "Slow your roll!" He returns not half a minute later in the same dress from before, his arms now covered by a black cardigan, a cute bow in his tamed hair. He carries the clean jacket for Rei in one hand, leading Mamiko behind him in the other. She looks adorable in a little purple dress.

"Are you planning on coming with us or what, Rinrin? Or do you have better things to do? Like guitar players?"

"Oh crap," Rin replies. "I forgot about that! Gotta go," he mutters, searching the entrance way for his shoes.

"Cwap," Mamiko repeats. Rei gasps, aghast, whisking his daughter into the kitchen without a backwards glance.

"Shit, sorry!" Rin claps his hand over his mouth, trying to stem the flow of vulgarity that always seems to stream effortlessly from his mouth. His fingers come into contact with something dry and pasty on his face, stained white when he pulls them away. He forgot about the diaper cream.

"He'd probably like that look on you," Nagisa says, waggling his eyebrows. "If you know what I mean."

 

 

Rin knocks furiously on the door. They're all supposed to be here; why the fuck isn't anyone answering? What was the point of being relieved of babysitting duty mercifully early and racing all the way here if Sousuke wasn't going to answer the damn door? Or his phone, for that matter. Maybe the stars that had aligned so perfectly a half hour ago had already slipped back out of place. He knocks one more time. Stupid people and their inability to answer doors today. 

"Coming, hang on," an unfamiliar voice cries from inside. The door opens a few seconds later to a man with cotton-candy hair and striking amethyst eyes that look incredibly familiar. Except for their expressive almond shape, they look almost exactly like Rei's. He clutches a wallet in his hand, a stunned expression on his face. "You're not the delivery guy."

"Uh, nope," Rin says, spreading his empty hands. "Is Sousuke here?"

"OH," the stranger replies, smiling. "I remember you. You're Matsuoka Rin."

Rin stares at him. Shit. Is he supposed to know who this guy is?

"I'm Kisumi," he continues, nonplussed at Rin's unresponsiveness. "The drummer? You know, Hidemind? I was there during the meeting with your sister a couple weeks ago? Ah, but your eyes were kinda glued on Sousuke," Kisumi winks.

"Right. Kisumi." Rin vaguely remembers someone else being in the room when he'd gone to pick Gou up. Besides Sousuke, that is, who had admittedly taken up the majority of Rin's scope of vision. But who could blame him for that? Sousuke's about a hundred times more attractive than this guy. "So Sousuke's not here?"

"Yeah, yeah, he is," Kisumi replies cheerfully, stepping aside so Rin can enter. "It's cool that you're here. Maybe you can cheer him up! He's in the second room to the right down the hall."

"Thanks, man," Rin says, slipping out of his shoes, smirking. "I'll see what I can do."

 

Rin can smell it long before he gets to Sousuke’s door. He wrinkles his nose. He’d thought he’d caught the scent outside on his way up the front walk; he’s more than familiar with it, in his particular line of work, but he’d dismissed it as being from the next house over. He opens the door without knocking, crossing his arms over his chest.

An open suitcase lies on the floor up be the wall, a pile of clothes tossed haphazardly into it. Some of the dresser drawers are open, various personal items hanging out of them. Sousuke's not even close to being packed. Sousuke lays on his bed with his feet crossed at the ankle, one hand behind his head, the other hanging over the edge, a blunt held loosely between his thumb and index finger, staring blankly at the ceiling, listening to music on his iPod. 

“Y’know, that’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do right before you have to fly.”

Sousuke lifts his head up, focusing groggily in Rin’s direction. “Shit,” he says seriously, his expression so shocked it’s comical.

“You’re lucky I’m not on duty, dumbfuck,” Rin growls, forgetting all about his training. This situation is way too personal for that. Besides, considering Sousuke’s lifestyle, Rin’s not exactly surprised. It could be worse. At least it’s not heroin or something.

“Coulda called first,” Sousuke says calmly, bringing the blunt back up to his lips. He takes a drag, then holds it out toward Rin. Rin steps forward and takes it, grinding it out on the bedside table. He’s not going to clean that up, either.

“I did call you. Four times.” Rin puts his hands on his hips, tapping his fingers against his hipbone. He is not happy. Something snags at the back of his mind- _maybe you can cheer him up._ Rin sighs. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Sousuke says, rolling onto his side with his arm curled under his head, facing Rin. He tugs his ear buds out and pushes the gadget to the side.

“I’ll believe in unicorns before I believe _that_ ,” Rin scoffs. He’s not stupid. He knows Sousuke’s medicating because something’s bothering him. Rin has so much experience in this area that it’s not even funny.

Sousuke closes his red-rimmed eyes. “There doesn’t have to be a reason for everything. Sometimes I just feel like it.”

“Your friend seems to think something’s bugging you.”

Sousuke doesn’t say anything.

“Is it what I said earlier? About Haru?”

He opens one eye lazily, humming deep in his throat.

“Yeah, well I didn’t come all the way here for him,” Rin says, advancing. He kneels beside Sousuke on the bed. “I also didn’t come all the way here so you could take a fucking pot-induced nap.” He snakes his hand down Sousuke’s midriff, cupping him over his jeans. “If you’re too high to do this, I’m just gonna leave.” This is so not the romantic send-off Rin had been imagining. He’s actually pretty pissed.

“Have you ever done it high?” Sousuke asks lazily.

“No, and I’m never going to.”

“It feels amazing, man.”

Rin punches him in the ribs. To his credit, it’s not a full strength hit. Sousuke groans anyway. “You are such a selfish asshole. Makoto’s right.”

“Dude, chill. I offered to share.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Rin grates. “It’s unfair because if we do it now, you won’t be as psychologically invested as me.” And he’s totally _not_ pouting about it.

Sousuke reaches up and touches Rin’s face. “You’re gorgeous when you sulk,” he says, stroking Rin’s cheek with his thumb. That earns him another punch, this time in the arm.

“What the fuck are you saying, idiot?” Rin tries desperately to keep the blush off his face.

"You're...just...like an angel," Sousuke says, struggling with his words. "You're so- and your face is so soft."

"Shut up!" Rin commands, blushing. Maybe there was something to that diaper cream, after all. He tosses his leg over Sousuke's waist, straddling him. He looks down into Caribbean blue eyes before crushing their lips together in a sloppy, wet kiss. To get Sousuke to stop saying such stupid, embarrassing lies. That's all.

The kiss is deep, passionate, Sousuke licking his tongue into Rin's mouth with lazy, confident strokes, touching Rin's ass with his hands. Rin feels Sousuke's dick pressing against his thigh, it's not aroused, but imagining what it looks like when it is causes heat to muster in Rin's own groin. Fuck. He really, really wants this before Sousuke has to leave. Maybe he can knock some goddamn sense into the idiot. He's going to make sure Sousuke remembers this for weeks. Hopefully until the next time Rin gets to see him.

 

Sousuke had been lectured countless times about what smoking pot could do to his libido. He'd never had a single problem with it before, so as apprehensive as he might have been when he first started (which still wasn't very, by most people's standards) he'd never worried about it. Besides, he didn't consider himself a heavy user at all. He only did it once or twice on the weekends, after shows, mainly. Unless he really felt like it. Like today. When he was bored. Now, he kind of wishes he'd worried a little more.

"I hate your dick," Rin mumbles from between Sousuke's legs. 

"What?"

Rin lets Sousuke's half-hard cock slip out of his mouth, shooting him a furious glare. "I hate you, dick," he spits. 

"No you don't," Sousuke laughs, reaching down to stroke himself. This is taking forever, he thinks. Or maybe only five minutes. His sense of time is pretty skewed. 

"I seriously do," Rin says, sitting up. He's naked, sporting his own splendidly hard boner. Show off. But what Sousuke can't stop staring at his Rin's hair, the rich burgundy of it, like red wine, how it falls in his eyes when he leans forward, even though he's tried tying it back. All Sousuke wants to do is touch that hair, run his hands through it, feel how soft it is. He loves the way it tickles his hips when Rin's sucking him off. Just not in a hard-on kind of way, apparently. Which is kind of funny. "Don't fucking laugh."

"If you hate me, why're you still here?" He's still not really getting hard, but swiping his thumb over his tip still feels good.

"Because. Shut up," Rin scowls, showing his teeth. God, Sousuke loves those teeth.

"Bite me."

Rin blinks. "What?"

"Bite me." _That_ thought is starting to get him somewhere. "Unless you're scared."

"I'm not fucking scared," Rin says, spreading Sousuke's legs and licking along the inside of his thigh. His hair brushes along Sousuke's skin, and he can't look away. It's so pretty. "You deserve to get bit." Rin licks and sucks at the intersection of Sousuke's thigh and groin, hickeying him until it's so tender it almost hurts, and then biting down hard, those sharp teeth needling into him with heavy pressure. 

"F-Fuck," Sousuke groans, cock swelling under his hand as he continues to stroke it. His brain feels so hazy, the pain a red hot swirl. Like Rin. A lick of flame in an otherwise cold, grey world. Rin bites him again and again, harder each time, until both of Sousuke's thighs burn. 

When Rin finally sits back up to survey his work, his expression is still stern, but his eyes gleam, rose-petal red. Sousuke feels like he might actually get sucked into them if he looks too hard. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. "We're gonna try this again," Rin says dangerously, crawling forward until he's kneeling with one leg on either side of Sousuke's hips. Lube drips down the inside of his thighs from their first attempt a few minutes ago. "And if you can't keep it up, you don't even wanna fucking _know_ what I'm gonna do to you."

"I kinda do," Sousuke says, holding up his hands for Rin's. He just feels like he should be touching them right now. Rin sits back against Sousuke's raised knees and puts a pre-lubed condom on him (for the second time) before scooting forward and reaching behind himself, lining up Sousuke's cock. Rin clasps Sousuke's hand with his free one, entwining their fingers, squeezing hard as he slowly lowers himself. 

"Oh, god, _ow_ ," he pants, grimacing. Sousuke keeps himself completely still, his heart fluttering madly in his chest as he absorbs the way Rin bites his own lip through the pain, cheeks only a few shades lighter than his hair. With one last pain-filled grunt, Rin's down, squeezing Sousuke's hips tightly between his thighs, his ass pressing into the tops of Sousuke's legs, which are angled up like a chair back for Rin to rest against. 

"Now _you're_ flagging," Sousuke points out, trying not to laugh. Rin probably won't find it as hysterical as he does. 

"Did you not see what I just shoved up my ass," Rin growls, taking Sousuke's other hand, too. His nails dig into the back of Sousuke's knuckles. "Was your dad a fucking elephant?"

"Nah," Sousuke replies. "That would be my mom. She-"

Rin shakes his head. "Know what? Let's not talk about her while you're balls deep inside me. Fair?"

"Fair," Sousuke agrees. And then Rin starts to move.

 

Much like the last time, Rin doesn't feel good at first. Sousuke's cock stuffs him even fuller in this position than it had before. It doesn't hurt too bad once he adjusts; he basically feels like he has to take a massive dump. He tries hard to keep his body relaxed, despite the constant need to clench and push Sousuke's girth out. His whole body feels hot, sweat springing up on his forehead. He holds Sousuke's hands tightly to steady himself, looking down at his naked chest. 

Rin licks his lips. Damn, Sousuke's got a great body. Tight abs. Well-defined pecs. And his lazy smile and hazy eyes- Rin loves the way Sousuke looks underneath him. If this ever happens again, Rin's going to be the one to enter. He'd love to see Sousuke's face as he comes from behind. But for now, Rin's happy to be the one being penetrated. From up here, he's the one in control. He's going to be the one doing the fucking.

Using his knees for leverage, Rin pushes himself up, gasping at how good it feels to have that hot pressure removed from his backside. It feels so good to have it out that Rin almost tears up. He drops his hips, taking Sousuke back in, and then pulls up again, this time clenching his ass a little as Sousuke's cock exits his body, biting back a moan.  
Sousuke's staring up at him like he barely even recognizes him, mouth hanging slightly open. "Oi, Sousuke," Rin pants. "Pay attention."

"I am," Sousuke grunts, bucking his hips up into Rin's ass. Rin gasps at the deepened stretch, the added burn. Sousuke keeps moving, taking up a languid pace, his thrusts shallow enough not to hurt, but deep enough to reach where Rin needs it to if he cants down to meet him at the same time. Moving just right, Rin grinds down on Sousuke's dick, hitting the spot that makes him shiver.

He also remembers this from last night, and he knows that he wants more. He moves faster, strained groans and panting falling from his lips, and he pulls his hands from Sousuke's so he can steady himself on Sou's hard, flat stomach, leaning forward and adjusting the angle of his hips. "Oh, fuck yeah," he grunts. "Yeah, yeah..."

He meets Sousuke's eyes and they're electric blue, surging straight into Rin's heart, through his body, and he's fully hard again, his dick throbbing against Sousuke's lower belly as he presses it between them. Sousuke cups Rin's face and leans in to kiss him. Rin doesn't care if he tastes like pot. Whatever. His mouth is hot and wet and his tongue feels so good, almost as good as the heat thrusting into his ass, pressing the spot that makes his knees weak. "Louder," Sousuke says, pulling away.

"Fuck off," Rin gasps, rolling his hips faster, clawing at Sousuke's chest because it feels so good. "I'm- gah-" and then Rin can't help it; it feels way too fucking good, good enough to make his thighs tremble and his cock leak, and he needs _more_ , more before Sousuke goes away. He sits up and leans back, moaning as Sousuke's cock reaches a better angle inside him, and he digs his fingers into Sousuke's sweat-slicked thighs, desperately seeking for purchase as he rocks his hips furiously, his own dick bouncing and twitching as he moves. "Oh my fucking GOD, HAHH." 

Rin loses track of how long it's been, or what he's even saying anymore. It's nothing but loud, wordless cries and white hot pleasure that gets him closer and closer to the edge with each thrust, Sousuke's big, warm hands on his thighs, holding him steady, then creeping slowly over his sweaty belly, exploring his chest, his nipples, stroking his cock, and by the time Rin finally explodes, spurting come all over Sousuke's stomach, Rin feels completely ruined.

He sucks in breath through burning lungs, hardly able to hold himself upright. Sousuke's wearing an expression Rin's never seen before, looking almost like he's seeing _through_ him, eyes shining, wide and unblinking; spots of pink colouring each cheek. It's kind of like the look Nagisa gets when he spots the waitress bringing out their food. It makes him feel weird. He tries to remind himself that it's just because Sou's high. "What are you staring at?"

"That was really hot," Sousuke says. He doesn't _sound_ quite as out of it as he had when they started.

"Yeah, I know," Rin answers, wishing Sousuke would stop staring. "Wait, did you even come?"

"I totally did," Sousuke assures him, holding up his closed fist.

Rin blinks. Then he raises his own fist and taps Sousuke's, breaking out into a grin. "Pretty fucking awesome, huh?"

"Yep. Pretty awesome fucking."

Rin pulls off, swinging his leg over Sousuke's body and sitting on the edge of the bed, dragging his clothes over with his foot. Right now he feels kind of numb inside, but his thighs burn from having to do all the work, and he's sure he's going to regret this tomorrow. "Don't you have to leave soon? You're not even packed."

"It'll take me two seconds," Sousuke says, sitting up behind Rin. He leans against Rin's shoulders and kisses his cheek, smelling his hair. His breath tickles Rin's ear.  
Rin blushes way harder than he should considering what they just did, pulling his shirt down over his head as a distraction. "Then do it now."

For a few seconds, Rin's sure Sousuke's going to argue. "...Fine," he says at last, hauling himself off the bed. "But you have to keep your pants off until I'm done. And turn around. I love looking at your ass."

Rin turns his head to try and conceal how red his face is. It doesn't work.

 

 

"Are you guys both coming?" Kisumi asks. "'Cause I only ordered one taxi van and we have a lot of equipment. I don't know if you'll all fit."

"I'm coming," Haru says. Kisumi hasn't seen him lift his eyes from his plate since Sousuke and Rin emerged ten minutes ago. The air is heavy. _Awkward._

"Really?" Rin questions. "To the airport?"

"Yes," he replies, standing and bringing his empty food container to where Kisumi holds a garbage bag open. "Don't pretend you don't want to. Every movie you watch has a dramatic airport scene." Makoto chuckles.

"Shut the fuck up, you guys," Rin snarls. "Whatever. I'm coming, too."

Sousuke smiles, the smile Kisumi's only seen a few times before. "We'll get our own cab," he offers. "That way we can do stuff in the backseat."

"You're disgusting," Kisumi says conversationally, at the same time as Rin punches Sousuke in the arm. Kisumi really likes that about Rin. Sousuke needs someone who won't let him off easy.

Makoto helps Kisumi clear the rest of the table, stopping frequently to stare at Haru, touching him whenever he passes by. Even though Makoto's boyfriend doesn't seem to smile much, Kisumi can tell he's enjoying all the attention; at least as much as Makoto likes giving it. Cute. It's nice seeing his friends happy, even though Kisumi's got major doubts as to whether these relationships are going to last.

Maybe now they'll quit screwing around when they're supposed to be rehearsing. That would be nice. Not that Kisumi thinks it's gross or anything, he just doesn't like having to see it. It makes him feel a little left out, in a strange way. His life would probably be a lot easier if he were gay. The opposite of how most people feel, he's sure. Life is funny like that.

 

Strangely enough, the ride with Makoto and Haru feels a lot like the old ones with Makoto and Sou. Well, at least they're quieter about it. Or trying to be. The driver turns up the volume on the radio, and Kisumi tries his best to hold a conversation with him, ignoring the make-out session going on in the back. 

"Sorry," he sighs guiltily. "They're not gonna be seeing each other for a while, so they're kinda...yeah."

"Don't sweat it," the driver replies. "I don't get worried until the panties come off. So what about you? You leaving anybody behind?"

Kisumi shakes his head. "Nope. I'm actually pumped to head back to Tokyo, though. I get to see my kid brother and my parents."

"Oh shit, my _parents_ ," Makoto groans from the back seat. "And Ran and Ren! I said I'd try and see if I could go over there and say goodbye before I left. I'm the worst son in the history of Japan."

"Yeah, that's pretty bad," Kisumi says, because it is.

"I can't believe I was so distracted I forgot about that," Makoto grieves.

Haru looks pretty damn proud of himself. "I could tell them you were helping me," he suggests.

"Helping you with what, exactly?"

"Picking a new career." 

Makoto's face reveals what a huge deal this is. "A new career? But...what? Why?"

Haru turns to gaze out the window, the sun, low in the sky, highlighting his features. Kisumi's never seen such a serious expression before. "I feel like changing," he says flatly.

 

 

Rin kisses Sousuke before they have to part at the first security check. It's nothing like it is in the movies. He's not allowed to accompany Sousuke to the gate.

"You really don't care how many people are watching?" Sousuke murmurs. He's sobered up substantially. 

"Nope," Rin answers, and then they press their lips together, licking into each other's mouths for several heated seconds before Kisumi gives a dramatic cough that sounds suspiciously like "hurry up."

"I'll text you when we land," Sousuke says.

"Yeah right," Rin teases, narrowing his eyes. "I'll be waiting right here when they won't let you through security."

Sousuke smirks. "I told you, I don't have any on me."

"You're still a dumbass," Rin says, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the floor. There's no bite in his insult. 

"Well, I guess we'd better get going," Makoto sighs, slinging his carry on over his shoulder, his face full of regret as he gazes back at Haru. Rin kind of wishes Sousuke looked at him like that. Then he recalls the dazed expression Sousuke had on after they finished fucking and figures he shouldn't complain. It may have been semi high-induced, but that didn't mean Sousuke was likely to forget it soon. 

Rin holds his fist out again. Sousuke bumps it, flashing that infectious smile of his. "See ya." And then they're stepping forward into their places in line to be screened. Haru apparently decides he doesn't need to stand around and watch them go through this process, turning on his heel and heading for the exits. Rin follows him, thinking he's probably right, and that Sousuke will _probably_ be allowed on the plane. He smelled more strongly of sweat now than he did of weed.

"We can share a cab back," he says to Haru's retreating figure. 

Haru stops. "What should I do with my life?" As if he's asking what colour of socks he should wear today.

"What the fuck? What d'you mean?"

He sighs. "I'm quitting my job. I need to know what do now."

Rin's so shocked he forgets to walk, accidentally blocking an elderly couple with a trolley full of matching suitcases, nearly getting run over until they swerve at the last second. Haru's worked at the same restaurant for _years_. Cooking is his thing. He'd never once expressed a desire to do anything else with his life. "You're doing this so you can be with Makoto?"

"Yes."

Rin laughs. "Sounds like a job for Ryuugazaki's Relationship Radio."

Haru stares at him like he's sprouted a dorsal fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/), come yell or whatever. Questions and suggestions are always welcome.
> 
> So, long distance relationships. Expect phone sex/webcam sex/masturbation/kare shirt(s). All of my favouritest kinks to work with. Hold onto your fucking socks.
> 
> Also like, a bunch of major, life-altering decisions, but who cares about that?


	22. Maguro-hime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I guess I'm a little apprehensive."
> 
> "You mean about Sou, right?"
> 
> "...Yeah. You know how self-destructive he can be."
> 
> Kisumi sighs, tension settling in his belly for his friend's sake. "Better than anyone," he mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this took 37 billion years to update. Here, have some platonic Kisumi love, Princess Maguro, and Mako's first awkward attempt at phone sex. 
> 
> *Unbeta'd, as always, since I'm a lazy piece of trash. Please forgive any glaring mistakes. (And subtle ones, too.)

Kisumi flips his tray up. Then down. Then up again. 

"Stop fidgeting," Makoto says. He's blocked by Sousuke, who's fast asleep in between them, so Kisumi can't see his face. "Honestly, the flight's only an hour and a half."

Kisumi sighs, rubbing his eyes. He hates small spaces; being crammed in between Sousuke's bulk and the far-too-thin layers of metal separating him from a long, cold fall to his doom is definitely not ideal. Memories of being crammed on a bus with dozens of basketball-playing giants for hours on end flood Kisumi's mind, making his breath hitch. He needs to distract himself. Fidgeting helps. A little. Kisumi desperately needs something to do with his hands; they yearn for drum sticks, a basketball, a cigarette, _anything._ "Sorry, Mamakoto."

Makoto hums absentmindedly in response, face still out of sight.

Kisumi tries to stretch out his legs, but they're too long, and he ends up kicking the seat in front of him. The middle-aged woman occupying it glares at him through the space between the seats. He smiles at her and mouths his apology, struggling to fight the waves of fear crash through him at not being able to fucking move properly. If only he could fall asleep during flights, like Sousuke seems to be able to do without qualm. "Hey, Mako. Could you, uh, talk to me? Please?"

Then Makoto's leaning forward, glancing at Kisumi with slight concern tracing his eyes. "Sure. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just...you're being really quiet." The distraction of conversation is already helping his claustrophobia, the iron clamps on his lungs gradually easing their grip.

"Sorry," Makoto says. "Lost in my own thoughts."

"Boy crazy, huh?" Kisumi laughs, and it's at least partly genuine.

Makoto smiles gently. He actually looks happy; serene, even. Kisumi can count on one hand how many times he's seen Makoto's real smile. Alright, maybe more than a handful of times, but his plastic smiles had always taken first place to the real ones in the past. Aesthetically, Kisumi liked Makoto's frown a hundred times better, but the evidence of his friend's real happiness was nothing to sneeze at, either.

"Not exactly," Makoto explains, scratching the side of his nose. "But...I don't know. I have a good feeling about this."

"Ah, Haru's really cute. I like him."

Makoto chuckles. "Hah! _Cute._ He sure is."

Kisumi squirms in his seat, trying desperately to relieve his cramped muscles. How the hell do people sit still this long? If Kisumi had an office job, he'd straight up kill himself. Okay, he wouldn't, but he would quit. Office Space style. The fax machine wouldn't make it out alive. "Not what I was expecting."

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't talk much."

Makoto smiles again, this time lighting up with affection. "Haru doesn't express himself in so many words."

"Yeah..." Kisumi glances at Sousuke's face. Eyes closed, head bent, arms crossed over his slowly heaving chest- definitely still asleep. He lowers his voice a bit anyway. "What about Matsuoka?"

"Hm? What about him?"

"I don't know. Sousuke seems to have it pretty bad. You know Rin pretty well, right? What d'you think?"

Makoto rubs his neck, thinking. "I haven't seen Rin in so long, but he seems more or less the same as he was in high school. I really want to say they'll make a great couple and everything, but truthfully, I...I don't know. I guess I'm a little apprehensive."

"About Sou, right?"

"...Yeah. You know how self-destructive he can be."

Kisumi sighs, tension settling in his belly for his friend's sake. "Better than anyone," he mumbles. "I like seeing him this happy. Hope it lasts."

"Me too," Makoto agrees quietly. "It's up to him, though. Him and Rin. Not much we can do."

Kisumi leans forward so he can see Makoto clearly. "That's not true."

"You can't meddle with his life," Makoto scolds.

"Why not? I meddled in yours, and look how great you turned out."

"Kisumi."

"I'm serious, Mako. I don't care what you say, if there's anything I can do to help keep him from fucking this up, I'm gonna do it."

Makoto sighs heavily. "But he's got such a thick skull. What can you do short of tying him up? You've honestly never been that great at stopping him from sleeping around."

"So I got drunk _one_ time and let my guard down, geez. And you were no fucking help, either, you slut." It's a bad habit he knows he needs to break, using such derogatory terms as endearments. He winces a little as he realizes what he's said. Shit. 

"Kisumi," Makoto hisses, half broken by a laugh. "Keep your voice down, will you? And I am not a slut."

Kisumi gives Makoto his best "excuse you me?" look, raising both eyebrows. "You're the worst of us all. It's just that nobody suspects because you disguise yourself as a giant teddy bear."

Makoto wears a disturbingly mischievous smile, eyes gleaming. "Yet you're not worried about _me_ cheating?"

"No, because you know your self-worth now. You don't need to validate your own existence with meaningless sexual encounters."

"Wow, Kisu, that's pretty deep." Makoto tilts his head to the side, considering Kisumi's words.

"Yeah, Kairi used to go on and on about that kind of stuff. Pretty smart girl."

"Huh. Yeah, she was. I liked her."

Kisumi breezes past that, shoving the slight sting to the back of his mind. He'd liked her too. He still did, if he was being honest with himself, but that ship had sailed. Talking about her constantly wasn't going to help him get over it. "Right, but Sou's the one who always screws himself over."

"Oh, I don't know if I agree with that," Makoto says, lightly stroking Sousuke's cheek with the back of his hand. Sousuke leans into it in his sleep, head lolling to the side. "He's pretty good at screwing other people over, too." It gives Kisumi the creeps when Makoto says such intense things with that gentle, nurturing voice of his.

"True. But it's hard not to love him anyway."

"Why are you always attracted to such broken people, Kisu?"

Kisumi shrugs, playing with a strand of hair. "I dunno. I just am."

Makoto shakes his head. "Hm. Well, I think if anyone can love Sou more than you," he says pointedly, "it's Rin."

" _Ha!_ Nobody could ever love either of you more than I do," Kisumi laughs. "But Rin and Haru are both welcome to-"

The seatbelt light dings and the captain's voice comes over the intercom, announcing that they'll be commencing their descent into Tokyo. Kisumi fishes a stick of gum out of his pocket to help his ears with the change in air pressure, realizing he's made it through the whole flight without completely flipping out about the _space_ thing.

 

 

"It fit on the way here," Sousuke says. "It's gotta fit on the way back."

"It's not, though," Kisumi answers, staring at the failed game of suitcase Tetris that currently faces them from the back of the vehicle.

"I'll just hold this one in my lap," Makoto offers, picking up one of his own bags.

"Where's Maguro gonna go?" Sousuke asks, irritated edge to his voice.

Kisumi chuckles. "She'll fit fine after you drop me off. You'll need someone to fill the void after I'm gone, anyway."

Sousuke snorts. "A happy trade."

"Ouch," Kisumi says dramatically, clutching his chest. "You wound me."

"Guys, just get in the damn car." Makoto's already halfway through the process of folding himself into the backseat, anxious to see his cat after so long. He'd offered Kisumi's younger brother five thousand yen to take care of her while they were away, which he'd done before with good results, but he's still worried something might have happened to her. 

"Can't keep Maguro-hime away from her prince any longer than necessary," Kisumi says, taking the time to slowly pull out a cigarette and light it.

Makoto glares, breathing in the scent. He narrows his eyes in what he hopes is a threatening way. "You asshole."

"What? It was a long flight," Kisumi says, blowing a puff of smoke into the night air.

"It was an hour and twenty-six minutes, which is not _long_ ," Makoto grumps, surprised at the Rei-chan in his voice. "You know I'm trying to quit."

"Yeah, but _I'm_ not."

Sousuke gets into the driver's seat and slams his door a touch harder than necessary. "I vote we leave without him."

"Sounds good to me."

Sousuke starts the car and puts it in reverse, leaving Kisumi standing in the parking lot with a shocked-yet-highly-amused expression. "You dicks! Don't make me run with these smoker's lungs," he shouts after them. Kisumi could outrun both of them in a fair race, regardless of the state of his lungs, but he doesn't have much chance against a car. He doesn't even bother trying.

Sousuke's nice enough to only drive ten spaces ahead before allowing Kisumi to catch up to them. "I'm not doing this for you," Sousuke informs him calmly. "It's because I fear your mom's wrath if I don't drop you off tonight."

"I'd be more afraid of Hayato's wrath," Kisumi says, rolling his window down so he can hold his smoke out of the car.

Makoto smiles. "Silent but deadly."

 

 

Makoto's fears concerning his feline roommate turn out to be unfounded; Hayato's taken perfect care of her. She purrs contentedly and sits on her haunches when she sees her preferred human, as she always does. Makoto picks her up and she perches on his shoulder, rubbing her face against his cheek. He instantly feels better, not at all ashamed that a mere pet can cause such a strong emotional reaction in him. He loves her, with her creamy fur, dark grey paws, and sky blue eyes. Eyes that had called to him the day he found her trapped in a box in the back alley behind his neighborhood supermarket. He would have taken her in regardless of who her eyes reminded him of, but they did certainly help the bonding along.

"Thank you for watching her, Hayato-kun," Makoto says, balancing Maguro with expert practice as he reaches into his pocket to retrieve the other half of the promised yen.

"It's no trouble," Hayato replies meekly, dark violet eyes fixed on the floor. "Does onii-chan need help bringing stuff in?"

Makoto glances back at Kisumi taking his things out of the trunk and piling them on the sidewalk, not feeling a single shred of guilt for not helping. He's got his hands full with Maguro-hime, after all. Sousuke has deigned to remain in the car, as unhelpful as ever.

Makoto smiles at Hayato, who's now rapidly approaching Makoto in height. A year or two more, Makoto suspects, and Hayato will stand on par with his brother. Despite the recent growth spurt the teen has gone through, he continues to act shy and demur around people who aren't Kisumi. "Yeah, I think he could use a hand."

Hayato darts past him in a flash, not bothering to put shoes on. "Onii-chan!" Kisumi drops what he's holding without regard for its fragility, holding his arms out for Hayato to fly into. Makoto feels a guilty pang in his chest, feeling an urgent need to get home as soon as possible and Skype his own brother and sister. 

"Thank you, Shigino-san," Makoto calls down the hall from his spot in the doorway. 

"It's no trouble, dear," he hears Kisumi's mother shout back. She's most likely too elbows-deep in sculpting clay to come to the door.

He turns and makes his way back to the car, nuzzling Maguro affectionately on the way. He hates to have to put her in her carrier for the drive back to his apartment, but it's for her own safety.

"Text me when you get home, Mako," Kisumi says.

"I will. It's going to be strange going back to living alone."

"At least you don't have to share a room with your kid brother," Kisumi replies, draping his arm over Hayato's shoulders. Hayato grins happily.

"It's not his fault you're twenty-seven and still living at home. You're the intruder."

"Hey," Kisumi laughs. "I'm not still living at home, I'm _back to_ living at home. I guess I just can't bear to leave my dear little brother alone." 

"Whatever makes you feel better." Makoto rolls his eyes as he gets into the car with Maguro, watching the Shigino brothers wave at them as they drive away.

 

 

Sousuke helps Makoto carry his bags and cat carrier up to his door. One trip suffices to bring up all his belongings, since Makoto's the only band member who doesn't have an instrument. He lets Maguro out of her carrier as soon as he gets through the door.

Normally Makoto would kiss Sousuke goodbye here, maybe even invite him in for a while, so he's mildly surprised at how natural it feels to do neither of those things. Sousuke doesn't seem to have any trouble with it either, crouching down to scratch Maguro's chin before saying goodbye and leaving without a backward glance. And none of it is awkward in the least. 

It feels great to be home. The first thing Makoto does is strip down to his underwear, carrying his clothes and suitcase to his room. He throws all his dirty clothing in the hamper in his closet before tugging on an old pair of gym shorts and a muscle shirt. Then he grabs his laptop out of his luggage and brings it to the kitchen, setting it down on the table and going straight to the fridge, which contains only beer, water bottles, and half empty condiment jars that rattle around as the door swings open. He'd emptied out all the food before he left, taking his mother's advice and leaving an open box of baking soda in the middle of the fridge. Grocery shopping tomorrow, then.

Makoto grabs both a can of beer and a water bottle, emptying a third of the latter into Maguro's water dish. She sniffs at it, swishing her tail, and then, after a good thirty seconds of deliberation, deems it worthy enough to drink. Makoto scratches around her ears as she laps at her drink, then stands and stretches his back out before popping his beer open and taking his laptop into the living room.

God, it's nice to flop down on his own couch. He'd bought the most comfortable one he could find, made of velvety fabric that Maguro's fur stuck to like velcro. He was constantly having to vacuum the cushions along with the carpet, but it was worth it for a soft place to sit and a furry companion.

Makoto settles back and flips open his computer, sending a quick text to Kisumi and another to his sister. A minute later he receives a reply from Kisumi, closely followed by the ring signaling an impending Skype call. He clicks the answer button, and Ran and Ren's faces pop up on the screen.

"Onii-chan!" Ran squeals, aqua eyes sparkling. Ren sighs and shakes his head behind her back, so only Makoto can see.

"Hi, guys," Makoto says, sitting up straighter. "Sorry I couldn't drop in before I left. Are mom and dad still up?"

"Yeah," Ren answers. "Want me to go get them?"

"Yes, please. I want to tell you all something." Makoto makes sure his beverage is out of the webcam's range. It's not a secret that he drinks, of course, but it's more prudent that his parents don't see it. Makoto lets out a giggle, weighing the insignificance of the beer can against the enormity, in his opinion, of what information he's about to divulge to his family.

Ren's face goes off-screen for a few minutes, so Makoto talks to his sister about college and other trivial things. He counts himself lucky that she seems to care more about videogames and books than she does about boys. Though Makoto would probably be more helpful giving Ran advice about boys than he would trying to help Ren with girls. "Just be careful with people you meet in online games, okay?"

Ran rolls her eyes. "I _am_ careful, don't worry! It's not like I use my real name."

"I know. But I still worry." Maguro jumps into Makoto's lap, kneading his thigh in the most painful fashion before stretching out across his legs, baring her belly for him to pet. Exactly six times, and then she swats at him. The sharp pain hardly bothers him though, so he continues to play with her, letting her sink her claws and teeth into his hand.  
"Maguro-hime," Ran coos through the video connection. Maguro pricks her ears at the sound of her name, but otherwise doesn't react. "Oh! Guess what?"

"What?"

"I forgot to tell you this when you came for dinner, but I made it onto the college swim team!"

Makoto smiles at his sister. "Really? The school has a girls' team now, too? That's really amazing, Ran. I'm proud of you."

Ran beams, cheeks rosy. "And guess what stroke I swim."

"Hmm...not butterfly anymore, probably, or you wouldn't be making me guess."

"Nope, not butterfly. Backstroke, silly! Like you. Actually, I'm better than you."

"Like hell. Says who?"

"Dad."

"That's only because he likes you more than me. He's biased. What did mom say?"

"I said all my kids are very talented at everything they do, and I'm proud of all three of you," his mother answers, appearing on the screen.

"A total mom answer," Ren pipes up in the background.

Makoto chuckles. "Is dad there too?"

"I'm here," his father's voice says. The screen jostles as Ran moves her laptop, and then all four of their faces appear together, slightly squished so they all fit.

Makoto takes a deep breath. His family is already well aware of his sexual orientation, and more than supportive of him, which makes this whole process so much easier. He clears his throat, feeling a bit nervous anyway. "So...I wanted to tell you that I'm in a relationship with someone."

"That's nice, dear," his mom says. Her generic, I-wasn't-really-listening-just-now-but-I'm-sure-it's-fine answer. He hadn't expected them to throw him a party at just that first part, though.

"...With Haru."

Ran lights up like a Christmas tree light. "Haru-chan? Like, _our_ Haru-chan?!"

"Yes, our Haru-chan," Makoto confirms, embarrassed at his own slight blush. Jesus. It's not like Haru's his first boyfriend or anything. He's not even the first guy Makoto's introduced to his family. But it's different this time, because this is _Haru_.

"Oh, honey, that's great," his mom says, giving Makoto a real smile. 

Ren does a double-thumbs up. "Good job, onii-chan."

"I like Haruka-kun," his father says, adjusting his glasses and nodding. "He's better than that other one you were with."

"We're not talking about Sousuke, dad, " Makoto says firmly. 

Ran squeals again. "I can't believe my onii-chan is dating Haru! This is so great! Ohmigosh, what if you guys got married?"

"Then _you_ can't marry him," Ren tells her cheekily. 

"Maybe I don't wanna get married," Ran counters, sticking out her tongue at her twin like she's before turning back to Makoto. "Oh, but, if you do, can it be somewhere cool like Europe or something?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't get ahead of yourself. We only just got together."

Ran isn't listening. "Was it romantic? Did you ask him out first? Tell me everything!"

Makoto rubs the back of his neck, trying his best not to imagine any of his recent encounters with Haru, lest he get a boner whilst talking to his family. Well, at least Maguro's positioned in the right place to conceal such a thing. That in itself is pretty weird, too. "Uh...maybe another time. I'm pretty tired after the flight and everything." He needs time to come up with a convincing G-Rated version of events.

"Aw, but-"

"Stop pestering your brother," their dad says. "I'm heading off to bed myself. Goodnight, kiddo."

"'Night, dad," Makoto replies, waving limply. "Talk to you later."

Ran gets a devious look on her face. "Oh, that's okay, onii-chan. I'll just ask Haru-chan tomorrow."

Makoto shrugs. "Good luck with that." Haru's rarely in danger of over-sharing anything. At least not verbally. And adulthood seems to have divested him of his strange public stripping habit.

"You do look tired," his mother chides. "We'd better let you get some rest." It's only once his mother's confirmed it that Makoto actually starts to feel exhausted, drained from all the physical and emotional stimulation he's been getting from Haru over the past few days.

"Thanks, mom. 'Night, Ran. 'Night, Ren."

"Goodnight," the twins say in unison. 

"We love you, honey," his mom says gently.

"Love you, too." Then the screen goes black. Makoto quietly sips his beer, stroking Maguro's soft fur and contemplating the implications of what he's just done. Told his family Haru's his boyfriend. Confirmed their relationship. Validated it. Makoto shivers, finding it's more from delight than nerves. He picks up his cell phone from the cushion beside him and dials Haru's number. He'd texted him earlier from the airport, but now he wants to hear his voice.

Four rings, and Haru picks up. "Makoto."

"Hey. I told my family."

Silence for a few ridiculously long seconds. "About me?"

"Yep."

"I thought you said you weren't ready."

Makoto takes another drink, considering his response. "I didn't think I was, until you said that thing about wanting to change your job. I don't know, maybe I was too hasty."

Makoto can practically hear Haru shrugging over the phone line. "I'm not planning on breaking up with you, so it's probably fine."

"Mm. Well, like I guessed, they're pretty thrilled. Especially Ran. You should prepare yourself for a million questions from her tomorrow."

"I'm assuming you don't want me to tell the truth," Haru asks, a hint of his signature stoic playfulness in his voice.

"Haru, don't you dare tell my baby sister about our sex life."

"What else is there to tell her? We don't do much else."

Makoto nudges Maguro off his lap, standing and going to the kitchen as he talks. "Which needs to be amended."

Another silent spell. Then: "Why?"

"Because we can't just fuck all the time," Makoto says, tipping the remnants of his beer into the sink. "We have to do other stuff."

Haru huffs. "I have ten years of sex to catch up on. But if you'd rather go to the movies, I guess I can take care of it myself."

"Haru! It's only eight years, thank you very much. And I intend to help you catch up. There's just...a lot of _other_ catching up we have to do, too."

Makoto can sense Haru's impatient stare. "Fine. I'll let you take me to the movies."

"Oh, geez, how gracious," Makoto teases. Then he sighs. "I would if we weren't so far apart."

"Yeah," Haru breathes. "It's too bad."

Makoto stills, listening to Haru's breathing pattern. It's barely noticeable, but it's slightly strained, hitched. Makoto groans. "Haru, are you jacking off again?"

"Yes." No hesitation in his answer.

Makoto pictures his boyfriend laying in bed, hand down his pajama pants, toes curling tightly in the sheets. Face flushed. Chest heaving. "You're fucking impossible." He's more amazed than irritated. 

"I told you," Haru pants, "I have a lot to catch up on." His voice catches on the last syllables, a tiny moan sounding in Makoto's ear. His cock stirs at the sound.

Makoto leans his elbow on the kitchen counter, holding the phone to his ear and slipping his free hand into the waistband of his shorts. "Tell me what you're doing right now."

"Stroking and fingers at the same time," Haru gasps. He must not be physically holding the phone, then. "Pretending it's you." Then he lets out a throaty whimper, making Makoto groan in response as he pumps his rapidly hardening cock. "But it's not thick enough."

"You need a proper dildo, baby," Makoto says, massaging his tip and shivering, slicking the moisture down his length.

"I need _you,_ " Haru replies. "I need your massive cock."

Makoto presses his forehead against the counter, increasing the speed of his fist. "F-fuck. Fuck, Haru-" He closes his eyes, heat thick in his belly, surprised at how quickly he finds himself on the brink of orgasm. He mentally adds _phone sex_ to his giant list of perverted kinks. He intends to introduce Haru thoroughly to each and every one of them.

"I'm so close, Makoto," Haru whines. Then he moans loudly, Makoto's dick twitching in response. He goes faster, fist flying up and down his own length, right on the cusp. Maguro chooses that moment to twine between Makoto's legs, mewling at him.

"Maguro," Makoto scolds, slides her to the side with his foot. It's too late- he releases an embarrassingly strangled sound as he loses it, coming into the palm of his hand.

He hears a strange sound on the other end of the line. Haru's _laughing_ at him. "Maguro?" he wheezes in a wondering voice.

"My cat, my _cat,_ " Makoto explains desperately. "She was-"

Haru continues laughing. "Whatever gets you off."

"Shut up, mackerel boy," Makoto replies, rinsing his hand off in the sink, hardly daring to believe in the sound that's greeting his ear. Haru's _laughter._

"I don't jerk off to saba," Haru informs him.

"I'm not sure I believe you. You seem to jerk off a lot. To anything."

"Looking for porn is like looking for a good swimsuit," Haru tells him seriously. "I'm picky."

That captures Makoto's interest. "You have a delicate palate, do you?"

"Yes."

"Should I bother asking?"

"It's easier if you see it. I'll email you a link."

Makoto rolls his eyes affectionately. This will likely be cute compared to the things Makoto's seen and done.

 

It's not until half an hour later, when he's laying in bed watching Haru's chosen porn video on his phone, that Makoto realizes he really needs to step up his game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/)


	23. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyes, so blue...infinite.
> 
> Lyrics bubble up in him like spring water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *claws self from swirling eddy of despair* I'm still alive, I swear! Welp, while I was busy being a useless piece of trash and not updating, other people were being useful and talented and drawing incredible art: 
> 
> [Makoto](http://brainindacloudz.tumblr.com/post/109743011516/now-because-i-got-utterly-inspired-and-felt), [Kisumi](http://brainindacloudz.tumblr.com/post/109887668816/i-know-i-know-same-style-like-the-other-pic), and [Mamiko](http://brainindacloudz.tumblr.com/post/110186884676/first-try-on-that-cute-little-girl-from) by the fabulously awesome [brainindacloudz](http://brainindacloudz.tumblr.com)!
> 
> And for the love of god, do yourself a favour and check out [sheeeonm's](http://sheeeonm.tumblr.com) great [Mako/Tattsun](http://sheeeonm.tumblr.com/post/107816186500/i-forgot-to-post-this-one-here-makoto-suzuki) crossover art. His shirt makes me laugh every fucking time.
> 
> This chapter is for Sherry <3 and you should be listening to [Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ph3Pci0yh7Q).

Makoto watches the video again, though he's seen it enough times that it's pretty much permanently imprinted in his head. He's still lazing in bed just a short while before noon, sun streaming through his thin curtains and creating glare on the screen of his laptop, which is open on the chair beside the bed.

Maguro stretches out from her nest beside him and needles her claws right through the thin sheet and into his thigh; he ignores it save for shifting his leg a bit, lightly scratching the fur at the edge of her collar, fingers to big to reach underneath it. He really should take her collar off for a while and let her breathe for once. He always feels guilty for making her keep it on all day.

As he slides a finger under her collar to scratch there, his thoughts drift back to the scene on the laptop screen. One man lies on the bed with a series of cross-restraints tying his wrists and ankles behind his back, so he's supporting himself with his elbows and knees, back arched in the air, hard cock resting against his quivering abs. It's _impossible_ not to imagine Haru in that position, which gets Makoto's blood going. Haru wants to be tied up so he's practically immobile, teased with crops and clamps and various other toys until he can hardly stand it, then fucked senseless. Like the other man in the video, a big, built guy with sandy hair, is doing to the smaller actor on the bed.

Makoto takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, curling a bit of Maguro's fur around his forefinger. _I need to take off her collar._ Then: _I wonder if Haru would wear a collar..._ Wait a minute. 

He sits up quickly enough to earn a surprised squeak from Maguro, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and pulling the chair closer. Haru in a collar. Interesting. Makoto's done a fuck tonne of experimenting with different toys, but role-playing had never really been his thing. He hadn't known he'd be so receptive of it until just now, the tickle of a thought blooming rapidly in his mind. To make Haru completely obedient...Makoto shivers, wrapping the blanket around himself. Would Haru be interested in something like that? Or...

He gingerly strokes his throat, rough with stubble. He decides he'd probably be equally as fine being the one wearing the collar. Having Haru take control. Having Haru _do_ things to him. Haru's sex drive, the way he took initiative these days, just like when he'd strip and try to jump in the fish tank as a teen. But finally, after all these years, the thing Haru wants is Makoto. It's enough to make Makoto giggle to himself as he types, searching for suitable material. 

The submissive wears a collar and knee-high boots, kneeling at the dom's feet, looking up with absolute longing in his eyes, shivering as the dom runs the tip of a braided switch over his pink, tender nipples. Hard to imagine Haru acting so docile. He's so sarcastic, so stubborn, so disobedient....Makoto closes his eyes, recalling the way he'd fucked Haru's mouth the first time; that determined, diamond hard glitter in his eyes, like he was getting more out of it that Makoto, like he was daring Makoto to go through with it and wasn't sure he could. Unafraid. _Curious._

No, Haru isn't compliant and accepting. It's that he knows what he wants and how to get it. Haru, in a slave collar and high heeled boots, kneeling at Makoto's feet with obstinacy drawn all over his face, saying "fine, I'll do it, but only because I want to. Everyone knows I'm the queen," just like a cat... Makoto blushes, rubbing vigorously at his face. Cats? Really? But Haru would look so sexy in a collar, arching his back like that...not to mention the different assortment of anal plugs available meant to resemble tails... _no, oh god, this is weird!_

He scratches behind Maguro's ears. "I'm a huge pervert, huh."

She looks at him with wide eyes, giving a slow blink as if to say, "Um...duh," then promptly goes back to licking her front paws.

"Very helpful, Maguro-hime." Still...Haru had told Makoto about his piss kink, showing absolutely no shame. And there's always the chance, however minuscule, that Haru would be into it. Especially considering his own... _colourful_ taste in porn. The thought of telling Haru a secret kink he's never shared with anyone before, not even Sousuke, makes Makoto's chest flutter. _Calm down, you idiot. Who gets emotional about porn?_ It's just sex. He's done it hundreds of times, in all kinds of positions, with all sorts of toys, but this- this is sex with _Haru._ And since when is he embarrassed about being kinky?

He gathers his courage and sends the link to the slave sub vid to Haru in an email:

 

To: Nanase Haru

Subject: Good morning  
Watching that video of yours again...but I was thinking you'd look cuter in something like this ^^  
P.S. Have a great day at work <3

 

He snaps the lid of his laptop down, a tingle spreading down his spine. Why is he so anxious to hear the response? Blue eyes, piercing into him, strong, unyielding, always knowing what they want, looking ahead, as if they can see the future...

But an illusion, in the end. Haru hadn't known what he'd wanted. He'd been the one who felt lost and discouraged. 

_“You know what, Haru? You should be sorry. You broke my heart. It took me years to get over you.”_ Basically the first thing he'd said after finally seeing him again. Makoto doesn't regret saying it, but he does feel a like a jackass. How must Haru have felt...he'd gone grey in the face when Makoto said it, eyes dull. _Always better to say what you're feeling..._

Eyes, so blue...infinite.

Lyrics bubble up in him like spring water.

 

 

"Kinda sounds like that last one you wrote," Kisumi says after their test play of the new song.

Makoto shrugs. "It's about the same person...I guess he just gives me a...feeling."

"It's good. You know I love all your stuff."

Sousuke snorts from the corner, where he's fiddling with the strings on his guitar. Makoto rolls his eyes. "But?"

Kisumi scratches his throat, mouth twitching in an awkward grin. "It's not _all_ gonna sound like this from now on, is it? 'Cause I don't really wanna record a whole album for your boyfriend."

"He'd rather record one for Hayato," Sousuke snickers.

"And who would you be playing for, your mom?"

Sousuke's face darkens. It's not that he's on bad terms with his parents- it's more like they aren't on any terms at all, especially since they got divorced, his mother marrying a man only slightly older than Sousuke. He tries to pretend he doesn't care, but Makoto's gotten pretty used to reading between Sousuke's lines. Count on Kisumi to say something wounding without realizing, never aware of how sharp his words can actually be.

Makoto sighs, because apparently his bandmates are still in middle school. "Really?"

"Sorry," Kisumi backpedals hurriedly. "I didn't mean that. You can always play for _my_ mom." 

Sousuke manages to retain his threatening scowl for about three seconds before breaking into a smile. "Who says I don't? Your mom rocks."

"Great, so this can be dedicated to the Shigino family." Makoto chuckles. "That's actually kind of fitting, considering how hyper your drumming is. It suits you guys."

Kisumi smirks, twirling a drum stick between his fingers. "Except you're ruining it with your mushy, emotional songs."

"I promise this isn't a permanent style. This one just..." Makoto looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. The other two observe him with frank curiosity. "Blue is...Haru's colour. It's important to me. Okay?" _And I can't get him out of my head._

"You and your blue-eyed, dark-haired, asshole boyfriends," Kisumi mutters. 

"Hey, I never got a song," Sousuke mumbles, dropping onto the couch by the window.

"You weren't my boyfriend! And who did you think 'Swamp' was about? My sister?"

Kisumi's laughing, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. "Oh my god Sou, how did you not know that one was about you?"

"Mako writes, I play. That's all I know." He shoots Kisumi a threatening side-eye. "And he's never steered us wrong before, so shut up and do what he says."

"Yeah, yeah," Kisumi sticks the drumstick down the collar of his shirt, trying to scratch an itch. "I'd pay to see Haru's face when he hears this, though. Think he'll like it?"

It's been years since Makoto's felt nervous about one of his songs. He's never felt pressure from a single listener like this before, either. "He liked the last one. I think he'll understand how I feel."

By afternoon break he's gotten a reply from Haru.

 

From: Nanase Haru

RE: Good morning.  
i think you'd look good in something like THIS.

 

Attached is a picture of a hat made in the shape of a giant mackerel. Makoto laughs so hard he gets soda up his nose and Kisumi has to pat his back. He's nearly forgotten how skilled Haru is at avoiding questions.

 

To: Nanase Haru

RE:RE: Good morning.  
Deal.

 

 

Work is the same as ever, though tinged with a new sense of mundane pointlessness. Haru's prepped these same dishes countless times, seen the same tired faces come in on a weekly basis, shared the same meaningless small talk with his co-workers that there remains not a single shred of sincerity to them. He fixates on the contents of his mixing bowl (it's going to be a batch of blueberry muffins for the breakfast special when he's done) so that he won't accidentally make eye contact with a customer and have to force conversation.

After spending so much time completely cut out of Makoto's life, Haru wouldn't have thought being apart for a few weeks would be this difficult. He wills himself to be reasonable, kicking at a pile of dust and burnt out cigarette butts collected at the base of the stairs with the toe of his non-slip work shoe. 

_Two years._ He'd spent an entire evening with Rei and Nagisa, discussing viable career plans. Haru wasn't sure what direction to look in; aside from the firm knowledge that he didn't want to work at a restaurant in Iwatobi for the rest of his life, he had had absolutely no idea when he'd arrived there for dinner. He grit his teeth and answered all of Rei's questions, no matter how uncomfortable they made him. No, he didn't want an office job at Rei's company. No, he didn't care about salary. Yes, he wanted to be using his hands as much as possible. God yes, he'd be okay having to move away from Iwatobi.

At least now he has an idea of what he wants. Two years to complete the program. _If_ he can get in. _If_ it's even possible. He reaches into his pocket idly and hits the replay button on his phone. Two years in Tokyo, where Makoto lives...it seems too perfect for Haru to invest in emotionally. Too perfect. He doesn't dare invest himself in the idea, in case the whole comes crashing down, which it has a high likelihood of doing. 

 

On his lunch break, Haru sits on the back step, just outside the door, earbuds in while he eats his sandwich. For the past few weeks, Makoto has been emailing him mp3 files of all of Hidemind's recorded songs, but the newest one, sent only a few days ago, is by far his favourite. Haru sets his empty plate to the side and leans back against the door jamb, closing his eyes and letting Makoto's voice envelop him.

_Am I wrong? Am I right?_  
 _Everything is like a dream_  
 _You see color, I feel blue_  
 _Don't know other type of the world_

Makoto's so beautiful, his voice longing and plaintive, so rich, so much to take in. Haru could listen forever, captivated as if by the musical incarnation of water. A dull ache settles in his chest, in his throat. Why does caring for someone have to hurt so much? Why does being apart have to lead to so much anxiety, so much emptiness? Haru concludes that being in love at this age sucks just as much as it did in high school. He almost wishes for a way out...

_Wake up it's time shout out to world_  
 _I am living like you and them_  
 _Must be something I have to do..._

Almost. He can't function correctly through texts and emails, can't feel the touch, the emotion that he needs. He's so used to this, to the people he loves leaving him behind. It really shouldn't hurt so much. It shouldn't leave him feeling so wasted, so out of touch with reality. Only a few days spent together, in reality. Without being able to hear Makoto's voice like this, he's in danger of slipping back into his old lifestyle. Of forgetting how it feels to be in Makoto's arms. He might forget what he can sense is true when he's actually _with_ him- that Makoto cares about him, too.

_Everything is like a dream  
You see color, I feel blue_

He "accidentally" stays out an extra six minutes past his break, ignoring the buzz of his phone in his pocket. Nobody says a word when he finally steps back inside, briskly washing his hands and tying on a clean apron.

"Your buddy's here," one of waitresses says. Nanako. She doesn't talk much except to relay orders to the cooks. Haru actually likes her.

"Oh? Thanks."

She nods. "That cop one with the teeth."

Haru pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen, surveying the dining area. Rin sits at the counter in his uniform, but his cap is off, signifying he's off-duty. He waves when he catches sight of Haru, but his face remains grim, dark shadows under his eyes.

"Coffee?"

"Sure, thanks. Ended up having to work all night," Rin explains, resting his chin on his hand. "Fucking exhausted."

Haru pours Rin a cup of coffee from the waitress' station, even though he's technically not supposed to do that. He should be back in the kitchen, filling orders. But he finds he really doesn't care about that, sliding the coffee mug across the counter to Rin. "Go home and sleep, then."

Rin barks a laugh, raising his mug to his mouth and nearly sloshing it down the side. "Oh, I tried that. You know what fucking sucks?"

Haru puts all of his conversational skills to work, understanding that now is not the time to make a sarcastic remark about Rin's sex life. "Vacuum cleaners?"

Rin snorts into his coffee. "Tryin' to show Rei up for dad joke of the year?"

"No. I'm trying to get you to smile, and it worked."

"Shut up," Rin growls, clearly pleased. He blows on his coffee to cool it before taking another sip (Haru's frankly surprised how fresh the pot seems to have been.) "I walked in on Gou and Momo doing it."

Haru blinks, trying to understand what the big deal is. "That _is_ probably how she got pregnant..."

"You don't fucking understand. They were in the kitchen in the middle of the day, playing fucking teacher and _school girl._ " The light slowly leeches out of Rin's expression as he speaks, his gaze wandering to a different plane of existence. Haru fights the urge to laugh at him, which isn't too hard. He's had a lot of practice at stifling laughter. 

"Makes sense. Isn't Momo going to be a professor?"

A manic gleam surfaces in Rin's eyes, irises flashing dangerously red. He looks feverish. " _He_ was the school girl, Haru! He was wearing a skirt and hair ribbons and she had him bent over the counter-" he chokes off, sheltering his face behind his hand. "I eat food off of that table! This is the last fucking straw. I have to move." His eyes flicker up briefly from his mug to meet Haru's.

"You want to stay with me."

Rin shrugs. "Thinking about it, yeah. I'll pay rent and stuff. I'm tidy."

"You can have the couch." Living with Rin wouldn't be too bad.

"Thank god," Rin says, relief flooding his voice. "I'm cool sleeping anywhere. As long as you don't fuck on the kitchen counter, I'm good."

Haru carefully conceals his smirk, remembering what Makoto had done to him across the back of the couch. The counter was the least of Rin's worries. But no use telling him any of that.

"Unless you think I'm going to masturbate out there or something, you're safe."

"Guess it's kinda hard to fuck when your boyfriend's an eight hour drive away. God, we're like college kids."

Haru stiffens. He might be one, soon. Hopefully. "How are you and Sousuke doing?" _Do not be jealous of Sousuke. Don't think about the fact that Makoto and Sousuke are together every day while you're stuck here. Makoto is trustworthy._ Except Makoto wasn't the same trustworthy, reliable kid that Haru had grown up with, and Sousuke seemed to be a huge factor in that change. _Don't think about it. Don't think._

"Okay, I guess." His blush means they're probably doing more than okay. "Couldn't Skype him last night 'cause of work, though. And it's fucking weird starting a relationship long-distance, y'know?"

"Yes." And he really means it.

Rin toys with the loose hair escaping his ponytail. "At least you knew Makoto before."

Haru doesn't answer, looking out the window at the highway instead. Cars going by...who's driving them? Where are they going?

"...not that fucking different, Haru. You know that. He seems so much better off now. Self-confident and everything. Be happy for him."

"I _am_ happy for him. I just wonder if I can keep up with him. He's so far ahead of me." He hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't known it was true until the words came out, solidifying it. _But I'm not letting him go this time._

Rin smirks. "Even Mamiko could see how freaking serious you are about this. I'm not an idiot."

"That's debatable."

"Oi. Don't sass your new roommate."

"I'll give you my key so you go can go sleep. You look terrible." He fishes around in his pocket, ignoring the glare of one of the waitresses passing by, clearly annoyed at the lack of work getting done in his presence. But Rin hadn't actually ordered anything, and the restaurant's empty save for a young mother nursing both a baby and a strawberry milkshake in the back corner, completely absorbed in her book.

Rin takes the key from him with a nod, tossing payment for the coffee down on the counter although he knows Haru'd give it to him free. "Thanks. I'll see you later. And don't fucking knock yourself too hard. Anyone can see how crazy Makoto is for you. You guys were always gonna end up together in the end."

Haru's turn to snort. "You weren't thinking that for the last decade."

Rin rolls his eyes, as if Haru's being a difficult child by pointing out Rin's inconsistencies. "...I guess not, but what do I know? I'm an idiot."

"I said that's _debatable._ " 

Rin laughs. "What are you, the debate team captain? We can go up against Rei and Nagisa. Have our asses handed to us." Nagisa alone is terrifyingly adept at convincing people to see things his way. Add in Rei's annoyingly encyclopedic knowledge and they really would be screwed.

"They convinced me to apply for school," Haru murmurs, reaching for Rin's mug and swirling the remains of the coffee inside it. Grounds lump together at the bottom. Wow, the customers are right for once- their coffee truly does suck.

Rin's voice is carefully measured, his face frozen, but excitement practically oozes out of him. "Oh yeah?"

"There's an animation program Rei found." But it's been so long since Haru drew anything serious, and animation requires so much other work besides just drawing. He doesn't have any idea how to go about making a portfolio, which he knows he'll need. He doesn't know where to begin, how to do anything, and the thought of turning his hobby into something serious, something grounded and real, with its own set of expectations, terrifies him.

"That's a great plan. Your art is good- at least the stuff I've seen." Rin narrows his eyes in an accusatory stare. "I'm sure you'll get in. Applying's half the battle." Haru can read between the lines. _When you don't get in, don't let it discourage you too much. Don't go back into hiding. Don't disappoint everyone by closing in on yourself again. Just try, dammit, why can't you just try?_ The same thing he's been reading in people's expressions for years.

"We'll see." _Don't get too excited._

He's not sure who the thought is directed at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can always find me at rosaveritas.tumblr.com
> 
> (Next chapter is almost done. Should be up _soon._ )


	24. Red Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, does it?"
> 
> Makoto swallows hard, transfixed. "Does it what?"
> 
> "Does it look cute on me. Like you thought it would."
> 
> "Not even a little. It looks _sexy_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats profusely*

"D'you ever...miss me? Like, fucking." 

"Sousuke..." They practically have to yell at each other to be heard over the loud club music and the blare of the crowd.

Sousuke's on, what, his eighth jack and coke, his movements languid and uncoordinated , voice slurred. "Dreamed 'bout it last night."

Makoto looks from Sousuke's flushed face and distant gaze to Kisumi's drawn, pale face. Kisumi mouths the words "God dammit" before pursing his lips, and Makoto rather feels like doing the same, except, except- his heart pounds its way into his throat as he studies Sousuke's disoriented, vulnerable state. He forces steel into his voice. "You have a boyfriend. And I have Haru."

Sousuke gazes at Makoto for a long moment, swaying almost imperceptibly before slumping down into the booth beside Kisumi, spilling a quarter of the drink in his hand in the process. "He's not my...look, I was just wond'ring. Yeesh."

Kisumi meets Makoto's eyes and his mouth twitches into a smile as he pats Sousuke's arm comfortingly. "Think you're being subtle, don't you."

Sousuke just shakes his head and then leans forward to rest his head on the sticky table, dismissively waving the hand not still clutching his glass. "Leave me alone."

"Ooh, I love This Sousuke," Kisumi laughs, drumming his fingers on Sousuke's back to distract him while with his other hand he relieve Sousuke of his drink. Sou's fist clenches around nothing, but he doesn't say anything. "I'm cutting you off, buddy. Join the lonely hearts club with me. He and Sharp Tooth have a fight?" That last bit is meant for Makoto, though Kisumi's eyes never leave the back of Sousuke's head.

Makoto shrugs. He hasn't spoken to Rin in a while, and Sousuke's kind of...withdrawn from him over the last few days. Understandably. "You'd know better than I would."

"Are things seriously gonna be weird between you two now?" Kisumi's smile turns razor sharp, eyes burning like charcoals. "Because you've gotta be kidding me."

Makoto swirls the ice in his glass of water, letting condensation drip onto the table. Maybe it'll clean some of the sticky stuff off. "I thought we were okay. I just thought he wasn't talking as much because he was busy with Rin and stuff. I swear, this is the first I've heard of- is he really asleep?"

Kisumi rubs a light circle on Sousuke's back, leaning his chin on his hand and pensively looking out at the people swarming the dance floor. "I think so. Hard to tell with him. Might just be pretending...like a _five_ -year-old," he says, loudly enough that Sousuke will know it's directed at him. If he's awake.

Makoto smiles uneasily into his drink. _D'you ever...miss me?_ Not once had they ever officially dated. They had such a complex relationship, off and on, so twisted and painful at times that Makoto hardly knows how their friendship survived. And now he's finally with Haru. He's got everything he's ever wanted.

Kisumi absentmindedly toys with a lock of Sousuke's hair, and Makoto bites down a surge of jealousy. _Of course I miss you._

Time to order something stronger. 

 

 

Nearly six in the morning, and Makoto has only managed to get a few disorienting snatches of sleep in. Thoughts tumble around his brain, filling it like a fragile balloon, making his head feel painfully tight. He blinks his eyes to disrupt the faint glare of sunlight that's started filtering though his blinds. He taps his fingers in a frantic rhythm on his bare chest, staring at the blurry ceiling and trying to shut off his head. He needs an empty head and a full heart, not the other way around. Since arriving home he's been unable to shake the jittery, lingering feeling that he's forgotten something, that something isn't right. 

Worries swirl and expand, stretching the balloon even tighter. Any minute now it'll be too much, it'll burst, if-

"Ow!" Needles pinprick his skin and he starts violently before realizing it's just the cat. He picks her up and lifts her over his head, bringing her down to rest on his chest, enjoying the feel of her sleek fur between his fingers. "Do you have to claw my hair, Maguro-hime? That's not nice." She purrs contentedly and closes her eyes, digging her claws into his shirt. 

At least someone's clinging to him...no. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. What had he been expecting? They both have jobs, they have busy schedules. Contacting each other every day is difficult, especially with Haru working morning shifts and Makoto at meetings, rehearsing and recording at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes Haru isn't even the one who forgets to text back, especially on the nights when Kisumi suggests going to the bar...

Busy, that's all it is. Makoto leans across to his bedside table, careful not to disturb Maguro, and checks his phone for messages, as if he could have received one in the last hour without hearing it vibrate. Nothing. And Haru would be at work now, so he wouldn't be sending anything for hours, if he was planning on responding at all. Anxiety courses through his veins, a current of electricity that clenches his stomach and makes his tongue taste sour. Sighing, he grabs the half-empty pack of cigarettes and the lighter lying next to his phone, pulling a smoke out with his lips. So much for quitting. How easy it is to slip back into old habits....

But the cigarette is soothing, to a degree, though he knows he really should go outside first. His bed is so comfortable and his limbs are stiff after lying awake all night, not compliant with his wishes. So he stays in bed half the morning, watching videos on his phone and trying to ignore the hunger gnawing at his belly. He doesn't have any food in the fridge anyway, and the thought of greasy takeout again makes him feel queasy. 

At some point he must drift off to sleep, because he opens his eyes to a dark room washed in the ghostly glow of his cell phone, which vibrates and blinks obnoxiously, still in hand. He fumbles and accidentally presses the green answer button instead of the ignore option and has to bring it up to his ear, struggling to claw himself out of sleep. 

"Yeah?" A curt greeting, but the best he can manage. 

"It's me."

Makoto brushes the sleep from his eyes, stretching out his tired muscles. "Haru."

"Yes. Are you sleeping?"

A quick glance at the clock reveals it's after nine. No point in lying. "Yeah. I mean I was. I'm awake now."

"You don't say."

"I mean I can get up. You don't usually call; is something wrong?"

"Yes." Makoto's heart sinks. "You didn't answer my texts." That's all?

"Oh, shit. Sorry." Since when was Haru so worried about Makoto answering his texts? Makoto fears he may have heart palpitations from how quickly it's metaphorically sinking and (now) rising in his chest. He feels warm down to his toes. "What do they say?"

"Asking if you have time to Skype."

"Sure." _Considering I slept though all my major obligations of the day._ "Hang on. I'm logging in."

"Okay. See you in a second." 

"Wait, Haru, Har-" his voice echoes back at him hollowly. Never mind. It's silly to want to remain in contact with him for every waking moment. They'll see each other in a few minutes. The beep of the Skype call pulls Makoto out of his thoughts. He blinks his eyes a few times and forces them to focus on his laptop screen- where the hell are his glasses?- and clicks "accept."

And blinks again and again, trying to make sense of what's in front of him. Haru's on his knees on his bed, wearing Makoto's old yellow and orange striped shirt. It's shabby and thin, coming apart at the seams, sliding down Haru's pale shoulder. Exploring the folds of the blanket beside him without tearing his eyes off the screen, Makoto manages to find his glasses and slide them on with minimal interruption to his view. 

"Haru..." A thick black collar adorns his neck, cat ears poke out of his hair, and Makoto catches a glimpse of scanty black underwear under the hem of the shirt.

"So, does it?"

Makoto swallows hard, transfixed. "Does it what?"

"Does it look cute on me. Like you thought it would."

"Not even a little. It looks _sexy_."

Haru smiles, soft yet proud. "I should have guessed you'd be into this from the minute you said 'Maguro' over the phone."

"Hah. Sorry I can't return the favour. I thought you were joking about the mackerel hat."

Haru shakes his head, eyes glowing impossibly blue over the screen. "I never joke about mackerel." 

"Noted...fuck, Haru. You look so good in that."

Haru glances down at himself, tugging at the shirt, fake ears falling forward as if they're real, twitching. "I was thinking of getting rid of this. It's so old."

"It really is," Makoto murmurs. "You should take it off."

A wider smile plays across Haru's face. "If you want me to."

"I do want you to, Haruka. Take it off." Makoto shifts so he's sitting cross-legged, back leaning against the wall, pulling the coverlet off of his lap and balling it up at the end of the bed. 

Haru obeys, slowly lifting the shirt over his head, swaying his hips to accentuate the skimpiness of his underwear. The front is barely wide enough to cover his dick; it's little more than a thong, highlighting Haru's hips and thighs. Makoto wonders what it looks like from the back...if there's a back to it all. The black satin shines the same shade as Haru's hair, and he's left with nothing but the panties, ears, and collar.

The video quality is poor, grainy in the artificial light on Haru's end, but it's as though Makoto could reach out and touch him, smooth his palms over Haru's chest, down his belly, pull him close and squeeze his ass, feeling that hot breath gasping against his neck. Heat floods his belly, skin prickling. 

Haru lays the shirt down next to him so it's still in full view, settling back on his heels. "Now what?" That faint smile still curls at the corner of his lips.

 

 

Makoto taps his chin, pretending to think. Haru can tell he's trying to drag it out. "Hmm...touch yourself for me. Play with your chest." He smiles as he gives his instructions, eyes crinkling, but his voice remains firm, confident, trickling down Haru's spine like ice water.

He shivers and complies, sliding his hands up his hips and stomach, watching Makoto's expression change as he starts to caress his pecs, lightly teasing both nipples at once. Goosebumps rise on his skin and his arms feel cold, though his cheeks and thighs bloom with heat. Makoto's watching him intently, leaning slightly forward, the lenses of his glasses glinting in the light from the computer screen. Haru suddenly stops his movement, annoyed. "Turn on your light."

"...Sure." Haru takes the brief seconds Makoto's off screen to adjust his fake ears with a trembling hand. He'd asked Ran where she got hers from (sometimes she wore them into the restaurant for no reason Haru could discern other than to be cute) and she'd given him the name of a store selling them in Iwatobi. He hadn't been embarrassed buying them, or putting them on before the call, but now...and why be nervous of something he knows for a fact Makoto wants to see.

Makoto comes back into view completely naked, the light filling the room from above casting very flattering shadows over the angles of his musculature. Haru admires Makoto's ass as he crawls back into position on the bed, slightly irritated that he missed watching Makoto strip off his pajamas, but the sight of his cock, already half erect between his strong thighs, extinguishes his annoyance almost immediately. He lets himself stare, briefly mourning the fact that he can't reach out and touch it, feel Makoto's heat, the smoothness of his skin, the soft prickle of hair...

A quiet hum. "Haru."

"Hm?"

Makoto sits comfortably on the edge of his bed, reaching forward to tilt the computer screen to offer an even more rewarding view. Haru realizes he's willing to do almost anything to get Makoto to touch himself. Through the grainy screen it seems like a fantasy, like he's watching Makoto in an amateur porn video, or dreaming so, and it makes him weak in the knees to imagine Makoto, quiet and pliable, laying down in front of a camera and touching himself, so direct, confident, _wanting_ people to see.  
A sick mixture of jealousy and lust surges through Haru's veins, heating his face and stretching the fabric of the uncomfortable underwear Nagisa had helped him procure. Makoto is _his_ now. This show is for him only. And if keeping Makoto's attention means wearing cat ears, so be it. He's more than willing to play this game.

"I want you to lay on your back with your feet against the wall."

Haru rolls onto his back as Makoto asks, head hanging over the edge of the bed. Now Makoto appears upside down to him. Fuck. "Yes, _Master_."

Makoto only chuckles. "I know you're being sarcastic, but it's still hot when you say that."

Haru lifts his head, heart pounding, headrush making him dizzy. "You're hot." Enough playing around. He slides his hands up his belly, digging his fingernails in hard enough to hurt, teasing his nipples with his thumbs. 

"Haru..." Quiet, little more than a sharp intake of air, but it has Haru biting his lip as he continues to play with himself, imagining Makoto's strong form over top of him, the heat off his skin, the weight of him. He's well-practiced at this, having masturbated to thoughts of Makoto countless times before. He slips a hand down to trace the outline of his erection through his underwear, rubbing at the wet patch growing at the front, moaning softly to urge Makoto on. "Pull them down, but don't take them off."

Makoto's commanding tones caress Haru, skittering over his skin like static. He obeys, tugging the underwear down his thighs and leaving them there. His hard cock lies against his belly, hot, leaking wet. He lets his hand drift down and hover over it, the other still pinching a puckered nipple. He looks to Makoto and raises an eyebrow, asking for permission. 

"Go ahead. Touch. Slowly," Makoto says, elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward, still managing to appear relaxed. It's only through subtle nuances- the way he taps a finger against his knee, the way his brow furrows despite his pleasant smile- that Haru can tell how eager he truly is.

Haru brushes the tips of his fingers across the underside of his cock, flinching at the light contact, finding it more tantalizing than a heavy touch. He grips himself and pulls the skin back, pressing his thumb gently against the slit and spreading the bead of precum over the tip. He adjusts his legs to distract himself from the urge to pump faster, allowing himself only the lightest touches and carefully measured swipes of his thumb over his tip. All the while, he tweaks his nipple with the other hand, a dull throb like white noise pulsing through his body. His body screams for more, _more!_

"Slow down, Haru," Makoto coos. A glance up reveals he hasn't moved from his position. Haru lets his head fall back against the edge of the bed, face burning, forehead breaking out in sweat. He hopes the ears clipped to his hair are still in place. He forces his hand to slow, breathing hard through his nose. He hadn't even registered picking up speed.

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

He stifles his retort by biting down firmly on his bottom lip, dick twitching under his palm. Makoto's _voice_ like that...

He resumes sliding his palm up and down, slick precum making the movement smoother. He'll never be able to come with so little friction. A frustrated gasp escapes his lips.  
"If you need something, ask."

"Let me go faster."

Makoto's eyes glint over the screen. "Not yet. Get on your hands and knees." Haru shivers at the authority in his voice, rolling quickly into position, blood roaring in his ears. He blinks his vision back into focus, happy that he has a better view of his boyfriend. Makoto may as well be conducting a job interview, for all the subtly intimidating confidence he's exuding. He oozes confidence, facing Haru squarely, his own cock heavy and hard between his legs, yet making no indication of taking care of it any time soon. "Good boy, Haru. Now sit back-" Haru obeys, "-and put your hands on your knees. Yes. Now arch your back." 

Haru digs his nails into his knees as he bends into position, aching erection rubbing against the blanket as he pushes his hips forward. He shudders as Makoto's piercing green eyes rove over his body. "Want me to meow?"

Makoto chuckles. "No. But I'm definitely going have to get you a tail." He leans back on his arm and moves his other hand up his thigh, running it through the hair at the base of his cock before closing his hand around himself and starting to stroke with smooth, firm movements, colour rising in his cheeks, eyes locked on Haru.

"A tail?" Haru's so distracted by Makoto that he can hardly hear his own question.

"A toy. They make plugs that look like them." He slows the motion of his hand, moving it in more measured, sensual strokes, cock fully erect. Haru aches to touch it, to feel it inside, but he's not allowed to even touch himself. "Do you have any yet? Toys, I mean."

Haru glances down at the blanket in front of him. It's reversible. Today he has it navy side up. "No. Just use fingers."

"Hmm...definitely gonna have to change that." Makoto closes his eyes, sighing deeply, breath hitching in his throat. Heat gushes through Haru's body so powerfully he has to grip harder to his knees to keep still.

"I want to touch myself."

Makoto takes his time replying. "Do you have lube?"

Haru nods. Of course he thought to have lube handy. Geez. 

"Good," Makoto practically purrs. "Show me how you use your fingers when I'm not there."

Haru wastes exactly no time lunging for the lube at the foot of the bed, squirting a glob into his hand. He bends forward, probing for his hole with his middle finger and sliding it in, moving faster than is completely comfortable. He wants to make himself feel as good as possible before Makoto tells him to stop. As soon as he can fit his whole finger in he pushes in the second, trembling at the ghost of pleasure working through him. He's not quite deep enough, doesn't have enough speed, not the right spot...

When he looks up, Makoto's bent in two, muscles in his shoulders flexing as he pulls something out from under the bed. The black box. He places it on the mattress beside him, opening the lid and pulling out a neon orange dildo. Haru's self-ministrations halt as he watches Makoto coat it and his fingers with lubricant. Makoto meets his eyes and smiles broadly. "Thought I'd show you how I do it, too."

Haru's heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself not to look to excited. _I'm bored, nonchalant, dammit!_ "It looks like a carrot."

"A carrot from Fukushima, maybe...it glows in the dark."

Haru smirks. "I can understand the cats, but glowing carrots? Tokyo must be a strange place."

"It is," Makoto smiles, scratching his nose. It looks odd to see him doing such a familiar, innocent gesture while he's got a giant dildo in his other hand. "If it makes you feel better, this was a gift."

It does _not_ make him feel better. "From Sousuke."

"No, Kisumi. But I do have things from Sousuke, yes. Does it bother you?"

Haru averts his eyes. _You see colour, I feel blue..._

"I can get rid of them if it does."

"...'S fine." Stupid thing to get jealous over, anyway. He doesn't want to ruin a good thing. "I want to see."

"Okay, okay." Makoto smiles, sorting the pillows out behind him to support his hips, laying back across them and drawing his legs up onto the bed so he's spread open, giving Haru a gorgeous view of his crotch and ass. "And you really should buy one of these. They're amazing." He strokes his dick several times before bringing his hand lower, circling his entrance. Haru picks up his own movement, drawing his fingers in and out, trying to match Makoto's rhythm. 

Makoto keeps his broad thighs spread wide, lifting his hips as he slides two fingers inside. Haru's breath catches at the look of concentration on Makoto's face, at the gentle quiver of his muscles from supporting himself at such an odd angle. Makoto's fingers work deeper, slick squelching coming through the speakers, and he adds a third, humming contentedly. Haru's captivated.

"Haru. I didn't tell you to...hahh...stop, did I? I let it go the first time, but if it happens again, you're in trouble."

"What are you going to do? You're miles away."

Makoto withdraws his fingers, propping himself up to give Haru a look. The I-am-immune-to-your-sass look. "Don't test me."

Haru swallows hard at the steel in Makoto's voice, breaking out in a cold sweat. He yearns to touch his neglected cock, but restrains himself, probing deeper into his ass to rub against his prostate. Jolts of pleasure make his skin prickle.

"Good boy," Makoto tells him, shifting back so he's propped against the wall, legs still spread wide open. He pushes his glasses up with the back of his wrist and presses the toy against his entrance, locking eyes with Haru as he pushes it in. Haru can see clearly the drag of Makoto's hole as he works the toy in and out, deeper each thrust, until it's buried almost the way inside. Makoto lets his knees fall to the side, hooking one with his arm and pulling it up toward his chest. He fumbles briefly at the base of the dildo before pulling his hand away; Haru can see it vibrating, a faint whirring sound filling his ears. Makoto palms his cock gently at the same time, eyelids lowering slightly, face flushing a deeper shade of red. "Ahh...hahh..."

Haru's fingers flicker more frantically against his sweet spot as he watches Makoto's hips jerk. He grips the blanket in front of him, leaning forward to get a better angle, waves of heat washing through him each time Makoto whines and moans. Makoto pumps his cock furiously, stopping only to tease his slit and the sensitive spot at the underside of the head, toy slowly working itself out of his body. When it's half out, Makoto reaches down to grab it, shoving it back in and fucking himself with it as it continues to vibrate. He bucks his hips, toes curling into the sheets. "H-Haru! Uhh, _god_!" He lets his knee down and seizes his cock, pumping hard, face screwed up in pleasure, body visibly glistening with sweat even over the laptop screen.

Haru moves his own wrist faster and faster, grinding desperate circles into his prostate and whimpering against his will. His legs shake and he fights to concentrate, training his eyes on Makoto's face. Just a little more, a little faster...Makoto moans loudly, breath hitching, and orgasm cascades through Haru like a waterfall. He grunts as come spurts all over his bedding, shifting his hand to his cock to stroke himself through it, panting afterwards and trying to realign his thoughts with reality.

Makoto's eyes are closed tightly now, lips parted in a series of lewd groans as he ups the vibration setting, hips twitching, thighs glistening with lube and sweat. The toy slaps wetly in and out of Makoto's ass and he pushes it deeper and deeper, finally holding it inside, back arching off the bed. His legs tremble as he comes, sticky ropes splashing across his chest and abs a loud cry tears out of him. He pulls the toy out as soon as he's finished, flicking the off switch and letting it fall out of sight over the edge of the bed.  
Neither of them speaks. 

Haru stretches out on his belly, gathering the pillow under his arms and resting his head, simply watching as Makoto fights to catch his breath, occasionally shuddering with the aftershock of his orgasm. Finally he turns to gaze at Haru, wiping the come off his chest with his hand. Haru reaches into his hair and pulls the ears loose, then unbuckles the collar. Getting the sweaty leather off his skin is a relief. He can feel Makoto's eyes on him as he does it, but he doesn't comment. A comfortable silence takes over, Haru hiding his smile behind his hand, Makoto openly beaming. "I'm hungry," he eventually mutters. 

Haru's not sure how long they've been staring at each other for. "You always are." 

"Shush." He rolls onto his side, face relaxed. "I didn't have dinner."

"That's stupid."

Makoto sighs. "I know, but it's hard to remember to eat right when we keep such weird hours."

Haru grunts in acknowledgement, too exhausted to form real words.

"Haru," Makoto whines. "What should I eat? I have nothing in the fridge."

"...Cupcakes."

"I could go for some of those right now," Makoto sighs, stretching. "Red velvet. But with chocolate frosting."

"Red velvet is already chocolate. It's supposed to have butter roux icing."

"I know that. But it's not chocolatey enough that way."

Haru snorts. "Then just get chocolate cupcakes!"

"I like both kinds," Makoto laughs, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders. "Red velvet sounds so much more adventurous. You're the one who suggested cupcakes in the first place! Now I really want some. This is terrible." 

"Rin doesn't believe they're made with chocolate. He tried to argue with me."

"What would Rin know about cupcakes? Did he develop a sweet tooth?"

Haru yawns, tired, but not willing to end the call just yet. "No. He just thrives off arguing. I suspect it's the source of all his power."

"So he's still exactly the same." So much fondness in Makoto's voice. "Say hi for me next time you see him."

"Tomorrow morning, then...he moved in with me."

"Oh, really? Are you sure there's room for him? I mean, that fish bowl takes up so much space...but I suppose you need someplace to swim in the morning." A wide, cheeky grin adorns Makoto's face. Haru's struck once again by just how much he loves the person on the screen in front of him, changes and all.

He keeps a carefully straight face. "I'll just have to swim in the toilet, instead."

"Haru!"

How he loves that laugh... "I have to go to sleep," he yawns. "Five am shift." And he can't call in sick, because he needs every yen to pay this career change.

"Okay. Good night, Haru. I love you."

Impossible to hide the smile on his face. "...I'll mail you some cupcakes."

"Red velvet, or chocolate?"

"It's a surprise."

"Ah, good! I love surprises."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone needs me, check the [trash can](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com).


	25. Bright Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro chuckles, breaking him out of his reverie. "You're doing the face again."
> 
> "...If you must know, things are kinda over with this guy I've been seeing."
> 
> "Ah. Well, plenty of fish in the sea, Rin. Not hard for a shark like you to catch another one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, I slipped and fell in some angst...
> 
> (To deeper understand the mechanics of the relationship between Sousuke and Kisumi, I suggest taking a look at part one of this series, [This Is The Best](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2360486/chapters/5210456), though it's by no means necessary in order for this to make sense.) 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry I have not been keeping up with responding to comments, but please know that I have read them all (several times each because I'm a loser like that and they make me so happy) and I genuinely appreciate everyone who has taken the time to leave comments and kudos. Your support is overwhelming and I treasure it. I will try to reply when I have the time!

Makoto shakes his head at the glass Kisumi offers to him. "Not tonight." He checks his phone (like he's been doing every ten seconds the whole evening) and reaches for his coat. "Think I'm actually gonna head out."

Sousuke shrugs, eyeing him while he takes a drink. "Have fun with Nanase."

"I will," Makoto says, flashing a smug smile while he does up his buttons. "Don't go too crazy."

Kisumi slings his arm across Sousuke's shoulders and casts a smile in Makoto's direction. "I'll watch him. No repeats of last time."

Sousuke grunts, carefully not looking at Makoto. Apparently he'd said some pretty embarrassing things the other night. Great. And Kisumi kept insisting that since he'd been drunk, it meant they were his true thoughts, when they weren't. Sousuke had hardly been thinking of Makoto at all these last weeks. Maybe on some level he missed the physical contact, being able to touch Makoto whenever he wants and not having to spend the nights alone, but he didn't miss _Makoto._

"-sure he gets home, don't you worry," Kisumi's saying, giving Sousuke's shoulder a squeeze. It sends a twinge of pain up his neck. He flinches slightly; the old injury's been acting up from all the extra rehearsals they've been doing. Nothing serious, though.

Makoto gives a little wave over his shoulder as he exits, and Kisumi slides under the table to pop into the seat across from Sousuke. "Could've asked me to move."

Kisumi fixes him with an intense stare, cheeks a little rosy. He blows his bangs out of his eyes with a puff of air, pulling Makoto's untouched drink over. Double-fisting tonight. "Didn't wanna bug you. This was easy enough." He keeps staring as he slowly drains the glass in his right hand.

Sousuke sighs and claps his hand down on the table. "Dammit, Kisumi. I don't miss him, could you fucking drop it?"

"Hm..." He nods solemnly, stirring Makoto's drink with the straw before popping the maraschino cherry in his mouth. "These are so good, but you know what they need? Wh-"

"Whipped cream," Sousuke finishes with him. "Why don't you go to a dessert bar instead?"

"Not enough booze." He takes a sip of the second drink. "So tell me more about your boyfriend."

Sousuke rolls his eyes. He'd correct Kisumi (once again) and tell him that Rin isn't his boyfriend, but what's the point? Either Kisumi's doing this on purpose or he actually can't remember it, so either way, saying it again has no purpose. If he can't remember by now, he's never going to. "Why?"

"I dunno, he seems different from your usual type, you know?"

Sousuke regards his countenance carefully, searching for an indication that he's teasing in some way. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You make him out to sound all funny and smart all the time. And then I finally met him and damn, he's way...prettier than I was expecting." He's swinging one foot under the table, inadvertently kicking Sousuke in the shin. "Remember the stories Mako used to tell us about him? How he used to cry all the time?"

"Yeah, I do." He also remembers thinking Mako's crybaby friend sounded really annoying, but that's not how he is at all. He's tough, passionate, intelligent, with a killer sense of humour and a definite edge. Rin's like a magnet, drawing things in with his energy. It got Sousuke's normally laid-back-to-the-point-of-apathetic blood all stirred up. "Hey. Check this out." He flips through the images on his phone and slides it across the table.

Kisumi's eyes light up with mirth when he sees the photo. "Oh my god. _I'm a princess, bitch_ ," he reads in a faux girly voice before breaking into a fit of laughter. "Damn, that tiara looks good on him. He's so _pretty,_ Sou."

"Yeah, I know. I uh...guess pretty might be my type. Who knew."

"Guess Mako _must_ be out of the question, then. He's not pretty at all."

"Hah. No. He's a fraud."

Kisumi's staring again, hair falling back in his eyes. It's getting fairly long, and it looks dark in the low lighting of the dingy bar. His eyes flash, and Sousuke's struck by how similar he looks to someone else. "He's classically handsome, Sou. Girls eat that shit up."

"Sure he's thrilled."

"I would be. Geez, or to look like you. I'd kill."

"You saying you think I'm handsome?"

"Yeah, but not in the Greek statue way like Mako. You're like one of those dudes in a Scotch and Soda ad."

Sousuke snorts, drink searing his nostrils. "Try again, buddy."

"Fine, like some kind of biker or something. Aw, Matsuoka can be your little biker babe! I mean, damn those teeth, every blow job must be a thrill, huh?"

"You don't even wanna know." The bruises have long since faded, but his thighs prickle at the memory of Rin's breath, his tongue, his _teeth_ there.

Kisumi titters, calling a bar girl over with an enthusiastic wave of his arm and ordering more vodka. "Oh, and a mudslide, tonnes of whip. Really craving something sweet tonight, you know?" He concludes the order with a casual wink, resting his chin in his hand. 

 

 

"Can't believe her name was Rin," Kisumi slurs, clinging to Sousuke's shoulder for support. His good shoulder. Not that there's anything wrong with the other one. It's a bit sore, that's all. "How funny is that?"

"Pretty funny," Sousuke says automatically, fumbling in his pocket for his apartment keys. Kisumi had gotten the waitress' number, written in pen on the inside of his hand, but decided he couldn't take her home to his parents' place, and her place was out of the question because her roommates were studying for exams. In order to spare the Shiginos the burden of having to deal with their inebriated son, Sousuke decided to bring the idiot home and let him sleep on the futon. Standard protocol.

"Rin's so beautiful." 

"If you're into boobs." He pulls Kisumi through the front door and sets him down on the couch in the living room. 

"....ey, Sousuke."

"What?"

Kisumi holds his arms out, waggling his fingers. "C'mere for a sec."

Sousuke flops down next to him, half-worried he won't be able to get back up again and make it to his bed. He hadn't exactly been drinking water all night. "What?"

"I wanna try..." His eyes somehow look sharper than ever, in spite of how unfocused his pupils are. "Someth'g." His hand slides clumsily up Sousuke's chest and settles gently on his neck, warm and damp on Sousuke's cold skin. He freezes, chest tightening as the air around him seems to thicken. It's heavy, constricting as Kisumi draws in closer, soft bangs brushing Sousuke's cheek. Then his lips find Sousuke's, gentle, fleeting, and he pulls away, looking expectantly into Sousuke's eyes.

Sousuke tries to stamp down the chaos currently raging in his chest. "What the fuck was that?"

"Mako left us for Nanase," Kisumi whispers. "'n you have Rin. Rin's way prettier than me."

"Are you...are you fucking kidding me right now? What does any of this have to do with you?"

Kisumi sighs, lightly thumbing Sousuke's jawline. "You're both leaving me."

He should push Kisumi's hand off, be firm, go to his room and lock the door and in the morning they can pretend this never happened. But he doesn't. Kisumi never talks like this. Never. Not with this level of sincerity, unless he's mad or talking about how great Hayato is. It's alarming. "We're not leaving you."

"You are. 'S'always been us three, for so long, 'n now you're both moving on and I'm _alone._ I love you guys."

"You are so drunk."

Kisumi shakes his head, candy-floss waves bouncing. "I think about it all the time. If it could just be us three." His hand slips up to cup Sousuke's cheek.

So much yearning in his eyes, so much loneliness. Sousuke could kick himself for not noticing something was wrong earlier. Kisumi's so fucking good at covering it up; Makoto's always been the best at deciphering the little warning signs. "Kisumi..."

"Okay." He presses his lips to Sousuke's again, warm and tasting of alcohol and cherries, and Sousuke doesn't do a single thing to fight it, heart practically suffocating him. Kisumi's his oldest, closest friend. He loves him so much it hurts, always has, and would do absolutely anything for him. But Kisumi's _straight_. The hand cupping Sousuke's face has a woman's phone number on it, but here he is, kissing a man without a single ounce of restraint. He moans quietly into Sousuke's mouth.

 _I'm done for,_ Sousuke thinks, slipping his hand into Kisumi's hair.

 

 

"He actually fucking mailed him cupcakes. Like in a tin with a fucking bow on it. Like..."

Sousuke snorts as Rin struggles for words on the other line. It's really fucking cute listening to him go off on a tirade about romance... it frays Sousuke's nerves knowing he's going have to destroy his exuberance by the end of this conversation.

"Didn't know he had a fucking romantic bone in his body and then- and they had fucking candy hearts and shit on 'em. Hearts!"

"Yeah, I saw. Mako made me eat one." Too much icing for his taste, and... "They were cinnamon hearts. That douche."

"Don't like cinnamon?"

Sousuke peruses the books on the shelf in his living room while he talks, just for something to do. A distraction. Damn, his hands are sweaty. "Nah."

"Weirdo. I love it. 'Cause I hate sweet shit and cinnamon candy's more spicy."

"True, but I ate a whole box of cinnamon buns once. Got _so_ sick. The smell still makes me queasy." 

Rin laughs, and it's so adorable, light and joyful compared to his usual gruff manner of speaking. Sousuke imagines Rin toying with a strand of hair, winding it around a pale finger. He wonders what he's doing, what he looks like, how his day really went. He really wishes he could see Rin's face. "That'll teach you, glutton!"

"Hey, I was twelve. Not my best year, decision-making wise." His mom bought a box because he'd wanted one, and had been too busy on the phone during the drive home to notice him eating them all. She probably wouldn't have cared- if he hadn't puked all over the back seat, that is. Man, had he gotten in trouble for that one.

"Why, what else did you do?"

Sousuke chuckles. It feels so nice just to talk about shit with someone. Sure, he's got Makoto and Kisumi for support if he ever needs it (not that he knows how to ask for it, or even recognize when he needs help- something he still needs to work on, he guesses) but he hasn't felt this connected to another person in ages. He's never shared this much of his life so _easily_ before. "Kissed a girl."

"You kissed a girl? So...you've known you're gay for a long time, huh?"

"Yep. Since I, uh, kissed that girl."

"Seriously? Lucky. Took me a while to figure my shit out, y'know, sexuality-wise." 

"Yeah? Tell me about it."

"Just...like I would get crushes on my friends, but they were pretty faint at first, so I ignored them. I'd been on a couple dates with girls so I knew I liked women, but...yeah, then the fucking wet dreams started. God. I this fucked up one once where they were all mermaids- like they had fish tails- and they kept trying to drag me underwater."

Sousuke tries hard not to laugh. Rin seems pretty serious about this. "Oh. _That_ kind of wet dream, huh? Getting dragged under sounds terrifying."

"Yeah, well I mean...they were touching my dick and shit, too. Anyway, I looked it up in some dream book at the library later and it said fish represent subconscious thoughts that are coming to the surface or something like that."

Rin buys into dream books? He doesn't seem like the type...must've been desperate. Sousuke's always been pretty damn confident in his sexuality. He's liked guys since...forever. He wonders what it must have been like for Rin to struggle so hard with it. "So. Was this before or after you were in love with Nanase?" The dude Rin's living with right now, no less. Fuck, Sousuke'd like to punch that guy. The stupid cupcake hadn't helped change his opinion. No matter how delicious it was once he'd picked all the damn cinnamon hearts off. _What a hypocrite you are, Sousuke._

Rin hesitates, lowering his voice. Nanase must be home, then. "I thought it was just...my deal with him. I thought maybe he was the exception."

"Ever fool around with him?"

"Nope. Kept it to myself. By the way, if you tell Makoto I'll fucking kill you. I'm serious. I have a gun."

Right. A gun. Threats. Perfect. "Isn't it illegal to make death threats?"

"It's almost like the police force is corrupted or something," Rin says, voice heavy. "Anyway, like I was saying. After Haru, there was my friend Rei."

Sousuke wracks his brain, brushing aside the gravity of Rin's commentary on the country's justice system. "The...blonde one you went shopping with?"

"That's his husband. Nagisa. Rei's the one with the glasses."

He sifts through his memories, trying to remember what Rei looks like. His mind gets somewhat foggy after a show. All he can think of is the bubbly blond guy, but there was that taller one always next to him, wasn't there? "I don't really..."

"Well, 's not important. The point is, I totally had a crush on him. First guy I ever made out with."

"Yeah? What was that like?"

"You just wanna hear about me making out with dudes," Rin teases. Sousuke can just picture the shit-eating grin on his face.

"Well, yeah." Sousuke takes a deep breath. He doesn't know how to do this, how to bring it up. But he also doesn't want to hang up, he wants to keep talking. And besides, this has to happen eventually. Just rip off the fucking band-aid for once and be done with it. "I bet it's really hot."

"Oi! I get crushes one at a time, asshole. Better not be one of those douches that assumes just 'cause I'm bi I'm into threesomes."

"So you'd never be up for one?" He can totally play this off as a joke...

"With who, Makoto? Haru would murder us all."

"Nah...look, there is absolutely nothing between me and Makoto. Hard as that is to believe."

"No, I get it. I do. Wait..did I ever apologize for punching you?"

A pause. Sousuke takes a deep breath, preparing himself. How to bring this up... "You might wanna punch me again."

Rin makes a little noise; of shock, indignation, Sousuke's not sure but whatever it is, it isn't good. "Why," he growls. "What happened?" 

"Did something stupid." Shit. _Shit_. Why does this have to be such a hard process? He's broken up with so many people before, watched passively as boyfriends and casual partners alike got tired of him and left, and managed not to care too much. But this one? Losing Rin is going to hurt.

"Some _thing_ , or some _one_?" His voice sounds so forced. Fuck. 

"It was just a kiss." A kiss that meant more than pretty much any lay he's ever had. _Just a kiss._ "But I can't promise it won't happen again."

"So...what does that mean?" So hollow sounding. "It's not like I didn't know you were going to, but you could fucking apologize! Thanks a lot, douche, coulda-"

"Wait, wait, Rin, listen! I'm not-" God fucking _dammit._ "I lied about never being in love before."

"...Great. So it is Makoto."

"No. It's not Makoto. It's Kisumi, okay?"

The line goes quiet, then, to his surprise, Rin bursts out laughing. "The drummer? With the pink hair? Isn't he straight? Great job."

"Yeah, I'm an idiot." He expected Rin to get mad, to yell like he was earlier. To hang up and never call again. To tell him what an asshole he is. Not to say he knew Sousuke was going to do this. Not to fucking laugh at him. "What...why are you still here?"

"Look, we went out a couple of times. Big deal. If you have a chance with the guy you love, go for it. Don't fuck it up."

"I don't, though."

"You don't what?"

"I don't have a chance." Why the hell is he saying these things to Rin? Why? It's so inappropriate, even by his standards. "We were drunk. I don't think he even remembers it. And like you just pointed out, he's straight, so..."

"You said you can't promise it won't happen again."

"If he wants to kiss me again, I won't say no. That's how it is."

"....Yeah. Yeah. I get it. I'd do the same thing."

 _Fuck, Rin, stop being so fucking understanding. Scream at me, hang up, something!_ "So you're not gonna show up with that gun of yours anytime soon?"

"I can't say I'm not...kinda pissed. I like you a lot, Sousuke. I could've seen us going somewhere." His voice wavers. "This sorta...fucking sucks, y'know? But whatever. I'll get over it."

"...Are you crying?"

"No! Shut the fuck up! Why would I cry over a dumbass like you?"

Sousuke hasn't had anyone cry because of him in a long time. The basic routine includes swearing and storming off. The sound of Rin pretending he's fine (despite clearly not being so) actually kind of does things to his chest. It feels like his heart is trying to do Zumba. High intensity. It might be even worse than how he felt kissing Kisumi last night. "Rin..."

"...I guess now the threesome question makes sense." He's laughing a little, but it doesn't sound right. It sounds wet and raspy.

"Sorry it had to end this way." He is. For once in his life, he's truly sorry. He almost wishes he'd lied about it, but someone like Rin deserves way better than that. 

"Me too," Rin sniffs. "Good luck with Kisumi." He hangs up with a hollow click, not waiting for Sousuke's goodbye. Not that Sousuke has anything more to say. He wonders how long it'll take to chase this emptiness away.

 

 

"You look like hell."

Rin shoots his partner a glare over his thermos, taking a sip. He generally tries to avoid too much caffeine intake, but today? _Fuck it._ Columbian coffee, black. Thank god Gou only buys the good stuff. Not like whatever shit Haru had served him the other day. Haru might be a damn fine chef, but he knows nothing about coffee. "Stayed up waaaay too late last night." On the phone. Like some kind of sixteen-year-old girl. Isn't his fault Sousuke turned out to be such an asshole...

Goro wheels his chair out from behind the desk, handing Rin a stack of manila file folders. "Good thing it's just paperwork this morning."  
Rin groans, reaching for the stack. "Yeah, this'll keep me awake. Awesome."

"Maybe you should get to bed on time, kid," Goro jokes.

"You're right. I'm getting way too old for this shit. Soon I'll know what it feels like to be you."

"It feels good," Goro chuckles. "Real good." To his credit, he's still pretty energetic for forty. If Rin has half his stamina and enthusiasm left at that age, he'll consider himself lucky.

Sighing, Rin sets into his paperwork- his job consists of far more of it than he'd been led to believe before taking his entrance examination. Names, dates, file numbers, every detail needs to be meticulously noted lest the perpetrators get off on a technicality. Rin won't have another case go to shit just because the label on the breathalyzer cartridge hadn't been updated. Not again. 

Rin's pen scratches furiously against the paper; he's only semi-aware of what he's writing. His mind keeps drifting to the fact that he's glaringly single again. Not that being single is bad, but it doesn't suit Rin, and he's painfully aware of it. He's kind of pissed at himself for getting his hopes up, is all. He should've known things wouldn't work out with a guy like that. A hot-as-fuck rock star who can get whoever he wants. How could Rin have legitimately thought he'd had a chance of holding on to him.

"We've got that high school presentation at two, so don't make that face," Goro says good-naturedly. "Won't be trapped here all day."

"What face?" Rin grumbles, spreading a layer of white out over a garbled date. Jesus, when would people learn that it goes year/month/day? Damn American influence.

"The one that makes you look like an axe murderer. Save it for the presentation. Scare them straight and all that jazz."

"Yeah, I'll scare them, all right," Rin replies, finally cracking a smile. "I'll just show 'em my dental bills." Explaining to rowdy youths exactly why it's a bad idea to make rash decisions- like having radical dental surgery at the tender age of seventeen- in an attempt to look 'cool' is honestly one of Rin's favourite parts of the job. And for the eighty percent of kids who don't learn from Rin's mistakes, hey, at least it makes for a good story. 

It's also nice to be able to tell impressionable kids that most decisions, no matter how stupid they may seem later on, won't screw up their entire lives. Despite the teeth (and the extra incurred costs that come along with them- reduced enamel and all that shit,) Rin has great friends, a job he loves, and if he's being truthful, there's a huge part of him that does still feel he looks cool. He likes his teeth, so fuck what society deems as "acceptable." The trick is to teach kids the fine balance between freedom of expression and just plain destructive behaviour. Kids are smart. Most of them only need someone to give them a fucking chance for once.

 _Kind of like you gave Sousuke?_ Shut up, inner voice. But...Rin shouldn't get so entangled with a guy who got high hours before going to the airport. What was that all about? And Rin can deduce that weed probably isn't the wildest thing Sousuke puts in his system on a regular basis, either. The guy is _trouble._

_Kind of like Nagisa?_ No. Nagisa's one of Rin's closest friends. It's completely different. Nagisa could kill someone and Rin would help him hide the body. Sousuke's just some random guy. Some random fuck...hah. If only that were true. No, Sousuke is Makoto's best friend. He's Makoto's Nagisa. His Rei. And even if Rin hasn't heard much from Makoto in the past decade, that still gives them some kind of connection. 

Not to mention...fuck. Rin knows exactly what it's like to be in love with someone untouchable, someone he has no chance with. He kind of feels sorry for Sousuke. But also pissed. What a shitty situation.

Goro chuckles, breaking him out of his reverie. "You're doing the face again."

"...If you must know, things are kinda over with this guy I've been seeing."

"Ah. Well, plenty of fish in the sea, Rin. Not hard for a shark like you to catch another one."

"Oh, shut up," Rin says, flicking a paperclip at him. "I've seen pictures of your old hair." But it does make him feel slightly better. There's got to be someone out there for him. Things with Sousuke weren't nearly romantic enough, anyway. Is "casually started fucking around" really the kind of story he wants to tell people? No. No, there's something else waiting for him, something better. With like, poetry and roses and passionate kisses in the rain and- he wants the cheesy multi-billion yen rom-com experience, not the edgy Indie romance that leaves you staring at the ceiling for three hours after it's over, trying to figure out if the ending was happy or not.

Yeah. Next time it'll be simple, straight-forward. Someone who loves only him, who doesn't try shit like bondage and candle wax on their first damn time, who doesn't smoke pot and hasn't slept with half of Tokyo. Rock stars are out of the question. 

 

 

By the time he gets home in the evening, his caffeine kick has worn off and his bad mood is back with a vengeance. Haru's watching TV when Rin comes in to grab some clothes out of his suitcase. He starts changing right there in the doorway, too grouchy to want to walk all the way to the bathroom. It's only Haru.

"...Everything okay?"

Rin's got his shirt half-way over his head- dammit, why hadn't he undone some of the buttons first?- and has to give it a sharp tug to get it off. "Sousuke broke up with me. I guess. We weren't really together or anything."

Haru hands him the remote, standing. "I'll make you dinner."

And that's what pushes Rin over the edge, breaking the dam and flooding his eyes with tears. "You don't h-have to, Haru..."

"Just sit down. I'll make Australian meat pie." He swishes out of the living room like a cat. Rin waits until he's out of sight to pull on his sweats and drop onto the couch, burying his face in the crook of his arm. Today was so trying, all he wants is to close his eyes and forget about everything, to make this headache go away...

He wakes to the mouthwatering smell of cooked beef and the sound of his cell phone going off. He wipes his eyes blurrily and fishes it out of his uniform pants. Unknown number.  
"Hello?"

An overly cheerful voice greets his ear. "Uh, hi, Matsuoka Rin?" 

"Yeah? Who's this?"

A slight pause. "This is Shigino Kisumi, Sousuke and Makoto's friend? Yeah, I know this is weird but I really need to talk to you _pleasedon'thanguponme!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](rosaveritas.tumblr.com) ....I shall prepare my inbox for the hatred. *winces*


	26. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It meant enough for him to break up with Rin over it. I told you not to start meddling in shit, Kisumi."
> 
> Kisumi bites the inside of his lip; looking Makoto in the eye when he's in mother-mode is seldom a good move to make, but he's out of options. He feels his resolve caving the second he meets that expectant green gaze. "...I called Matsuoka yesterday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the reactions to the last chapter sure were...*cough.* Sorry I took so long getting this one up (and to everyone I still haven't responded to. I'm working on it! Thanks to [zankyounofuckyou](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zankyounofuckyou/pseuds/zankyounofuckyou) for beta this time. ^^

Rin stares at the phone in his hand, the voice on the other end faint and distorted until he presses it back to his ear. "You're..Kisumi."

"Yes! Yes, I'm the...the..."

"Homewrecker?" 

"I'm so sorry."

Rin examines his fingernails while Kisumi talks, contemplating hanging up. "Not really any of my business what Sousuke does. Why should I care?"

There's a muffled silence on the other end, the sound of the phone being moved. "I know this is a long shot, but I wanted to know if there's any way you'd be willing to- to talk to me? Just talk, that's all."

"We're talking now, aren't we? And what the fuck for?"

"For Sousuke. And Makoto."

"You know them better than I do."

"That's true, but...you know Mako's always talking about you. And lately, so is Sousuke. I got jealous and worried and did something colossally stupid and I feel bad for it."

"What makes you think I care? Be with Sousuke. You have my blessing." He yanks the phone away from his face and hangs up. Seriously, what is this? 

 

Before he can even toss his phone down on the coffee table, it's ringing again. Same number. He should just let it ring, or turn his phone off, but Rin's style is a lot more...confrontational than that. It's what he gets paid for. He clicks 'answer' with a sigh. 

"What do you want."

"I want you to give Sousuke another try," Kisumi pleads, seemingly unaffected by the chill in Rin's voice. Honestly, buddy, take a hint.

"What? He broke up with me! He says he loves you. What the fuck do you want me to do?"

"...He said he loves me?"

"Uh, yup."

A pause. _Great, now he's going to get all mushy about-_ "That _liar!_ There is no chance on this planet that Yamazaki Sousuke loves me. He's pulling one of his stunts again."

And maybe Rin has a sense of morbid curiosity. "His...stunts?"

"Mhm. He saw I was unhappy so he's breaking up with you for my sake. I'm serious, Matsuoka, this is literally all my fault. Sousuke does this- he'd do anything in the world to make sure me and Mako are happy, even if it means screwing himself over."

"...Please tell me you're not joking." _Don't get your hopes up, Rin. Don't._

"I have never been less joking in my life," Kisumi swears, voice as somber as Rin's ever heard it. Which is relatively little, but...Rin's inclined to believe the guy for some reason. If Kisumi wanted Sousuke for himself, why the hell would he call Rin up and beg him to give Sousuke another chance? He must be telling the truth. Logically. 

"He likes you so much, Rin. He talks about you all the time, asking Makoto for stories. I've never seen him like this."

"But...are you saying he's gonna keep breaking up with me over stupid shit?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it. I'll freakin' tie him to a chair and pay for you to get on the next plane here if that's what it takes. I swear. The idiot doesn't know what's good for him."

At that, Rin has to laugh, even if it's just a low, grating chortle. Yeah, Rin's worked with plenty of cases like Sousuke's before. With people who self-medicate to forget their troubles when they're stressed, and other destructive shit like that. It isn't exactly rare. "...I might consider coming. You know, to kick his ass for being such a dick."

"I'll hold him down!"

"I'm taking you up on that plane ticket." He cocks his head as Haru comes in carrying a plate with a steaming, golden brown meat pie on it. He places it on the coffee table in front of Rin, seeing that his hands are full. "And one for Haru, too."

"Deal. I totally owe you for, you know, kissing your boyfriend."

Rin doesn't have the energy to correct him. Besides, Kisumi's emphasis on the word boyfriend seems deliberate. "Yeah. You do." It comes out less joking than he'd intended. Whoops. It's too hard to pretend not to be miffed about it.

Kisumi glazes right over the remark. "Save my number in your phone; I'll text you ticket info. Oh, should I keep this a surprise from Mako too, then?"

"This is a surprise?"

"Well, duh. If we tell Sou he's gonna mysteriously vanish for the weekend or something. So mum's the word, and I'll set up a taxi for you guys at the airport-" his voice grows more enthusiastic- "And I'll at least make sure he takes a shower and like, trims his nails or whatever-"

Rin can't help the choked out laughter that bubbles up. "What is he, your pet?"

Kisumi giggles on the other end, light and breezy. "Pretty much. No, it's more like, I'm used to doing that kind of thing for my brother and Sousuke's definitely like a _brother_ to me." 

"You...bathe your brother and make sure his nails are trimmed?"

"Well he's sixteen! Hygiene isn't his first priority, sadly. Good thing he's so cute," he gushes. "And the nails thing is for in case you guys-"

" _I know what it's for,_ " Rin snaps. "Geez, okay. I agreed to come, didn't I? Even though this whole situation is weird as fuck. Just make sure there's _two_ tickets. I'll tell you what days are good. Now I gotta go, my food's getting cold."

"Oh, right! Sorry, sorry. 'Bye!"

Rin hangs up and tosses his phone to the side, lunging forward and grabbing his plate. Still warm, thank god. He devours two bites before looking up and noticing Haru staring at him. "Two tickets?"

"God uth a fwee twip do Togyo," Rin says through a huge mouthful of beef. He swallows before continuing, noticing Haru's faintly disgusted expression. "Plane tickets. Gonna visit Makoto. So take some days off." 

Haru's eyes shine like he's seeing a fifty percent off mackerel sign at the supermarket, and the discomfort of having to deal with this whole Sousuke/Kisumi situation evaporates. Making Haru happy trumps Rin's own feelings; damn, it's gratifying. 

"Can we go this weekend?"

"Sure," Rin says, stuffing another giant forkful of flaky meat pie into his mouth. "Hawu, dish ish sho goood. Oh my cod."

Haru just squints at him, pursing his lips, and Rin has to clap his hand over his mouth to keep the crumbs in while he laughs. His mood has taken a complete turn since the call.   
The thought of Haru getting to see Makoto. The thought of... _Sousuke._ And all the things Rin would like to do to him to make him pay... _God dammit, expectations. Get back down there. The higher you get, the more it hurts when you're dropped._

But who is Rin kidding? He's excited. The trouble will be trying to keep this a secret from Sousuke for a whole week. He frowns, licking his fork clean. Sousuke has no idea about any of this. He thinks he's ended things, and that's that. Plus that was that whole thing about Sousuke always talking about him. Really? He did that?

"Rin?"

"Hm?"

"Do you...need to talk about what happened?" Haru fidgets with the cushion in his lap, sitting in the armchair opposite the couch. He keeps his eyes fixed on the embroidery he's picking at, but Rin's touched that he he's making an effort.

"'S okay. The food's cheering me up. Thanks." Rin tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, turning his attention to the TV screen. 

And lasts about half an air freshener commercial before changing his mind. 

Despite the sincerest intentions to only give the bare bones of the situation, he ends up telling Haru everything. Haru watches him patiently, waiting for him to finish talking. "...Yeah. So... that's where it's at."

Haru stands, grabbing Rin's plate on his way out of the living room. He returns with a beer, which Rin catches neatly when he tosses. "You can stay with Makoto and me," he finally says, after Rin's taken a few sips out of the can.

It's the littlest thing, but Haru's consideration combined with the lack of sleep and the emotional roller coaster ride of the last two days has Rin getting misty-eyed. He takes a long drink to cover it up, belching and wiping his mouth once he's through. "'S much fun as hearing you guys bone all night would be, I'll just get a hotel. It'll be nice to have a bed and a room to myself for a couple nights." _If I don't end up at Sousuke's._.

 

 

Rehearsal starts early for once. Well, earlier than usual, considering they're all there by ten. Kisumi picks up Starbucks for everyone on his way in; a caramel macchiato for Makoto, the seasonal special for himself because he's curious (it's something covered in whipped cream with the word coconut in the title, so he can't see how it could go wrong,) and for once, he gets Sousuke the drink he actually likes instead of pretending to accidentally forget he can't stand cinnamon dolces. 

"You look rough," Kisumi chirps, draping his arm over Sousuke's shoulders and pressing an iced coffee into his hand. "Not excited about this weekend?" They have a show to play, an official one advertised by their label, meant to promote the band and announce the release date of their first album. Kisumi's anticipating it so much; myriad dreams and expectations buzz like electric currents through his body, prickling under his skin and lingering in his stomach in a way that nauseates him if he thinks too hard about it.

Sousuke tenses under him, relaxing again so quickly Kisumi can't be sure he didn't imagine it. He shrugs- maybe it's a subtle hint for Kisumi to get off. But Kisumi's stuck on his fake-it-'til-he-makes-it policy, so he doesn't budge, widening his smile in a show of innocent camaraderie.

_It's only awkward if you make it awkward._ They still haven't talked about the kiss. " -wouldn't worry too much about it, we'll be fine," Sousuke's muttering. He doesn't sound like he means it. And he won't make direct eye contact since that night, which is driving Kisumi to absolute madness. _Look at me!_ See _me!_

It takes physical effort not to confess his little conspiracy right then and there. Spilling would mean getting Sousuke to stop being mad at him, to acknowledge his existence, to validate him. One sentence out of Kisumi's mouth and everything would click back into place, go back to the comfortable rhythm they were in before.

But no, he has to be patient. The pay off will be a thousand times more gratifying if Kisumi is the one to literally bring Rin to Sousuke's doorstep. A pretty little peace offering.  
Makoto's eyeing the pair of them up from across the room, his signature brand of "I'm going to pretend I don't strongly suspect something happened because I don't have the energy for this shit" smile gracing his face. Right. Rin's probably told him the details surrounding the break up- Sousuke had been deliberately vague when mentioning it yesterday. _A guy like that is too much effort,_ he'd said, brushing it off like nothing.

Makoto's a double-agent now, watching everything, relaying information; Kisumi's got to watch his step more carefully if he's going to make this work. It's exhilarating. This is going to be the surprise of the century (or at least the week,) orchestrated at his hands. The pesky butterflies in his stomach start acting up at the thought. He's going to fix things and earn back the admiration he lost. The admiration he needs, wants, craves, _deserves._

Kisumi's supposed to be the one who has his shit together, the one who has real relationships and offers good advice and can make people smile when they're down. He's the one people come to when they need repairs, and Kisumi likes that. He needs it. He needs to feel needed in order to feel important, and he's talented at ignoring situations that don't   
reflect this. 

But Sousuke's one of the people whose scorn he simply can't brush off. When Sousuke's eyes move right through him, it stings like sand whipped up during a storm.  
A few more days and it'll all be over. 

"Yeah. The show's gonna be great," he singsongs, leaning a touch more weight on Sousuke's shoulder and gauging his involuntary grunt. "Your shoulder gonna hold up 'til then, though?"

"It's fine," Sousuke growls, pushing him off. "Don't worry about me." 

Makoto's glancing over with concern in his eyes. "Don't push it, Sou. Not again." 

"I fuckin won't, okay? I know my limits. Jesus, _mom._ "

Makoto frowns. He's got an ink stain on his bottom lip from chewing on the end of his pen. He somehow makes it look endearing, like he's been eating blueberries. "Maybe you should skip rehearsal today and rest."

Sousuke glowers for a moment, resentment blazing in his eyes. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose and stands. "Whatever. I'll see you guys later." He leaves the door open on his way out. Makoto waits until his footsteps have receded before crossing his arms and turning to Kisumi with an eerie smile. 

"Whatever you did, you better fix it."

Kisumi counters with a smile of his own, waving his hand nonchalantly. "I'm already working on it, don't worry. Uh...so...do you know? What happened? Did Rin say something?"

A glimpse of darkness surfaces in Makoto's eyes briefly before disappearing. He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. "Haru did, since Rin told him. He wanted to know how mad I'd be if he skinned you."

Kisumi winces. "Ouch."

"I managed to talk him into at least making sure you're dead first. That way, you won't be able to feel it." He meets Kisumi's eyes as he says it, still smiling. It makes Kisumi's blood run cold.

"So you're pissed at me too, huh?" Kisumi's chest clenches painfully, blood pounding in his ears, distractingly loud. "I said I'm fixing it."

Makoto shakes his head, sighing. "Do I even want to know what the hell was going through your head?"

_I wanted attention._ But he can't say that out loud without sounding like the world's most selfish, immature asshole, so he settles for, "It was just a joke! I didn't mean it. And I was so drunk; I barely remember it. Besides, it's not like it meant anything."

"It meant enough for him to break up with Rin over it. I told you not to start meddling in shit, Kisumi."

Kisumi bites the inside of his lip; looking Makoto in the eye when he's in mother-mode is seldom a good move to make, but he's out of options. He feels his resolve caving the second he meets that expectant green gaze. "...I called Matsuoka yesterday."

"Gou?"

"No, Rin! I called him-" Makoto opens his mouth to say something (probably along the lines of how Kisumi should leave things well enough alone) but Kisumi just holds up his hand and increases his volume to make sure he's heard. "-he's coming here this weekend!" He's careful to leave out the part about Haru. "It's a surprise for Sou, so don't say   
anything."

Makoto isn't smiling. "What if they get in a fight? This is a really important event, they can't be yelling at each other all weekend."

"They won't be." Kisumi turns his grin up to its highest setting. "Honestly, you worry about the silliest things. Now drink your coffee, ingrate."

Makoto sighs and pulls his cup out of the carrying tray, narrowing his eyes. "I think this is for you."

"Huh? No, mine's the one-" Makoto turns the cup toward him. There's a phone number with a 'call me~' and an obnoxiously large heart scribbled next to it. "All I did was ask what drink she recommended!"

"Why don't you put her number in your phone? Give her a call later. It'll give you something to do tonight."

Kisumi sighs and pulls out his phone to take down the digits, but he's not feeling it. He's not going to call the barista (no point in potentially pissing off the person who makes his coffee every morning) and he's also not going to call the waitress from the bar the other night. The one named Rin. Speaking of Rin...

He exits the contacts menu and scrolls through his open conversations, quickly finding Rin's.

 

Sent (Tue): hey, got ticket info for me?

Matsuoka Rin (Wed): Friday evening sometime after 17:00

Sent (Wed): got it! emailed you a link

 

No reply. Probably just Rin not wanting to talk to him, but on the off-chance that he hadn't received it or the link...

 

Sent (10:13): hey! just following up on the tickets. got them????

 

He makes to slip his phone back into his pocket, surprised when it chimes in his hand.

"That was fast," Makoto says. "Isn't she at work?"

"Oh, uh...yeah. Must be on her break. Or texting at work." He winks. "I _am_ pretty hard to resist."

 

Matsuoka Rin (10:13): yeah 

Sent (10:14): cool cool so i'll have a cab meet you at the airport when you land. hows that work?

Matsuoka Rin (10:15): works fine. where will it take us exactly? 

Sent (10:15): i can come if you want. oh and i ended up telling mako your coming. sorry. but nanase can still be a suprise

Matsuoka Rin (10:15): don't think I wanna be in the same cab as you and Haru. he wants to kill you.

Sent (10:16): i heard. you dont?

Matsuoka Rin (10:17): more mad at Sousuke tbh. but shit happens. I get that.

Sent (10:17): mature of you! im really releved your not mad. 

Matsuoka Rin (10:18): don't be relieved yet- I'm trying to pick a name to save you into my phone as. 

Sent (10:18): your gonna save my number??

Matsuoka Rin (10:18): Kisu My Ass.

 

Kisumi chuckles and steals a quick glance in Makoto's direction to see if he's noticed. His attention is occupied by the open notebook in his lap; he taps his pen against his lip, ceasing only to take a slow sip of his coffee. Now the ink stain makes sense. He's been working on new lyrics, and he usually fidgets while he's doing that, too intent on his work to notice a leak in the end of his pen. 

 

Sent (10:20): is it wrong that i like that?

Matsuoka Rin (10:20): not as wrong as your spelling. jfc it's terrible.

Sent (10:21): oh ouch like ive never heard that 1 before :P

Matsuoka Rin (10:21): Like it physically hurts me to read it

Sent (10:22): yet here you are still texting me

Matsuoka Rin (10:23): yeah, well, work is boring today. you may be weird and annoying af but at least you're interesting.

Sent (10:23): ill count that as a victory! k so what if i sent mako to get u? 

Matsuoka Rin (10:23): and he won't know Haru's coming?

Sent (10:24): IMAGINE HIS FACE!!! 

 

He takes a discreet candid shot of Makoto and sends it. He looks so innocent when he's wearing those glasses. 

 

Sent (10:24): hes like a cute puppy when hes exited

Matsuoka Rin (10:25): oh my god. oh my god I know. ugh it's gonna be so romantic! AND IT'S SPELLED EXCITED, you have GOT to be doing this on purpose. didn't you go to uni?

Sent (10:25): LOL on a basketball scolarship. jeez. and its not like im stupid. just bad at spelling. probably bc i dont care?? 

Sent (10:25): but back to that romance thing...

Matsuoka Rin (10:26): oh, shut up, Kisu My Ass.

 

 

Haru's off like a shot the minute they're allowed to exit the plane, stopping up impatiently behind a mother with two little girls.

"Oi! Slow down!" Good thing it's a national flight and all they have with them are their carry-on bags; Rin fears Haru may actually explode if he has to wait a nano-second longer. He dashes down the corridor, slipping through the crowd like liquid through a crack. Rin chases after him, but Haneda Airport is insanely crowded at this time of week. 

"God fucking dammit, Haru!"

He manages to catch up to him at Arrivals, where Haru stands stock-still, muscles tense, scanning the crowd for-

"Makoto!" 

Makoto's obviously barely walked through the entrance, looking slightly dazed by the amount of people crowding the door. He's a few inches taller than most everyone else there, so he's easy to spot. His head snaps toward the voice, eyes sharpening when he catches sight of Haru. 

Haru dashes toward him, ignoring the spectators and throwing himself into Makoto's arms. Makoto's hand finds its way to the back of Haru's head, ruffling his hair while the other arm constricts itself tight enough around Haru's waist to lift him off the floor. 

Rin decides to give them some space, watching transfixed from his spot while the two share their moment. Haru's face is hidden from Rin's view, buried in the folds of Makoto's hoodie. But Makoto's looks gentle, serene, like he's just applied a soothing balm to a nasty wound. Haru's arms snake up and wrap around Makoto's neck, and they stay like that for a moment, breathing in each other's scent and letting the bustle of activity in the terminal fade into the background.

Raindrops patter against the window behind them, refracting the taillights of the cabs waiting in their designated stalls outside. Rin wills his eyes not to fill with tears, but he can't help it. His chest restricts as he tries to hold it in, but he knows he's screwed. He shoves his arm over his mouth to help stifle the gross sob that tears out of him, hoping nobody will try to talk to him until he's had a minute to calm down and catch his breath.

"Rin," Makoto calls. "You always know just what to bring!"

Rin gives him the finger with his free hand, vigorously scrubbing tears off his face with the other. "I fucking hate you. Both of you. Shut up."

"I should've brought popcorn," a lyrical voice says, the weight of someone's arm falling across Rin's shoulders. "And travel tissues."

"I knew you 'd be here," Rin growls through his tears. "Kisu My Ass."

"Well...I wasn't going to, but I had to deliver something."

"What?"

"This." Something soft brushes over Rin's cheek, making his skin prickle. He turns his face to the side to see what the hell Kisumi is holding. 

A yellow rose, huge with silky petals. Kisumi keeps a serious face, holding the stem carefully between two fingers to avoid the thorns. 

"Don't get the wrong idea! It's yellow, for friendship. Because Sousuke doesn't know you're here, so he couldn't meet you with flowers and be all..." he gestures vaguely in Haru and Makoto's direction. "You know. Like you deserve."

"As if he'd do that," Rin sniffles, wiping away the last of the dampness from the corner of his eye. "Have you met the guy?" 

"Hah, yeah, well. He's better than he used to be." 

Looking at Kisumi's face, which is open and earnest, his violet eyes shimmering hopefully under the fluorescent lights, Rin realizes he doesn't even feel a shred of anger. Not even if he imagines him with alcohol-flushed cheeks, hand on Sousuke's cheek, pulling him in for a kiss... 

"I'll take it," Rin says, snatching the rose out of Kisumi's hand. His eyes widen in surprise, big and bright and framed by lashes impossibly dark compared to the lightness of his hair. 

"Ouch." Kisumi raises his finger in front of his eyes, a fat bead of blood collecting at the crease of his knuckle. He darts his tongue out and licks it off, giving his finger a quick suck for good measure. "If you wanted a _red_ rose you could just say so," Kisumi teases. "Anyway, I think we should get our own cab. Those two look like they're gonna start necking the minute they get into the back seat."

It's true; while they're holding themselves back from kissing outright in front of so many people, the way Haru and Makoto are clinging to each other certainly doesn't pass for platonic. 

"Yeah. We're gonna end up in the news if we don't get out of here, aren't we."

"We aren't famous enough to have paparazzi yet. But hey, this weekend might change that." Kisumi winks as he passes by, hopping over to discuss the cab plan with Makoto. Haru spares Kisumi a murderous glare before stepping a few feet back, glancing back over his shoulder for Rin.

"Remembered I exist, huh?"

"Sorry."

Rin smirks. "No you're not."

"No, I'm not." His cheeks are tinged pink, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile, eyes impossibly bright. "But are you really sharing a cab with that asshole?"

"Hey, I can hear you," Kisumi whines.

Haru bristles. "I know. I made sure I said it loudly."

"I'm fine, Haru. Don't worry." He gives Kisumi a once-over. Couple inches taller than him, broad-shouldered, but nothing Rin can't handle if need be. Like if Kisumi pisses him off too much. "Now for the love of god, take your boyfriend home. He looks like he might piss himself from excitement."

"Get it, Mako?" Kisumi leans on Makoto's shoulder, poking him in the ribs. "Like a puppy!"

Haru's between them faster than Rin can blink, replacing the Kisumi's hand with his own and leading Makoto away. 

"Text me when you get to the hotel," Makoto calls over his shoulder. 

"Yeah, yeah," Rin mutters, waving at them. "Like you won't be busy by then." He watches through the window as they get into the backseat of a cab together.

He turns to find Kisumi staring at him intently, arms crossed over his chest and a cheeky smile gracing his lips. "So, the question is: do you really wanna head for your hotel? Or would you rather do something more _interesting _?"__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com). Home is where the trash is...


	27. Into Your Hideout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wanna go dancing?" Kisumi leans closer to Rin's ear, side-eyeing Sousuke provocatively. "Sou hates dancing."
> 
> "Let's go dancing," Rin smirks.
> 
> Sousuke sighs. "I hate both of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've forgotten to link some of the amazing stuff you guys have created for me *sweat* but you can check it all out under my [#awesomefanart](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/tagged/awesomefanart) tag on tumblr. 
> 
> *crawls back under my rock*

Kisumi leans against the sinks in the men's toilets, waiting for Rin to emerge from his cubicle. "Are you okay in there?"

"Are you always this nosy? Wait outside!"

Kisumi rolls his eyes. "You don't want me to hear you taking a dump?"

"I'm not- that's not what I'm doing, Jesus!"

"Yeah, I know, you're changing. I heard you open your bag. I get it, you wanna look good for him."

A pause, punctuated by more rustling and the sound of a zipper closing. Finally the lock clicks and the door swings open. "He doesn't even deserve it," Rin grumbles, stepping out of the stall. In place of the sweats and hoodie he'd gotten off the plane in, he's wearing a grey low-necked t-shirt with an expensive-looking buttonless sweater over top, fancy leather shoes (Italian made?) and a pair of skinny jeans so tight that Kisumi figures squeezing into them is what took up most of Rin's time in there. He slings his bag over his shoulder and leans over the sink, brushing his hair back and tying it up with an elastic off his wrist. Kisumi notices that he's storing a couple of them there, hidden in among an assortment of braided cord bracelets. 

"I love this game," Kisumi sighs.

"What game?" Rin's attention never wavers from his reflection in the mirror.

Kisumi chuckles. "The one where you look as gorgeous as possible and make him feel like an idiot for dumping you."

Garnet eyes finally flicker in Kisumi's direction. Then Rin smirks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "I never get to play, okay? All I ever fucking do is work and change into track pants when I get home and I feel shitty about the way I look these days, so why not?"

Kisumi looks Rin over carefully, making sure to catch his eye before he whistles. "You look fantastic. Like, damn, those are some tight pants, my friend. Sou's eyes are gonna pop out of his head." 

"You don't have to check me out," Rin says. But he's blushing faintly as he waves Kisumi off with his hand. "I'm ready for this. I mean...fuck, what if he rejects me?"

"He won't," Kisumi replies, leading the way out of the washroom to the airport exit. "And if he does, we can have fun without him, you know. He's not exactly the life of the party."

"Why? What's he like at parties?" Rin's only half-listening, furiously tapping at his phone with a pretty frown on his face, elegant brows knit together with consternation. Kisumi feels a surge of unease at Rin's androgynous good looks. It's slightly irritating that someone can look that good after ten minutes in an airport bathroom. Escaped strands of hair frame his cheeks in a manner Kisumi had previously thought only fashion models with hair stylists could achieve. Kisumi's own hair always curls every which way and gets in his eyes, but he usually gets busy and misses his hair appointments until Hayato gets annoyed enough to trim it for him. He's taken to wearing headbands for shows to keep it out of his eyes- drumming for two hours is some seriously sweaty work, and damp hair clinging to his forehead is a distraction he can't afford when he's on stage. 

"That's kinda gross," Rin says, sliding into the back of the hailed cab. Kisumi gets in after him, wondering when exactly he'd started talking out loud. Whoops.

"The back sweat is worse. Ugh. Sometimes I end up taking my shirt off because I feel like I'm choking. Especially in those dark clubs with the smoke machines. Which is, like, all of them." He struggles to clasp the seatbelt shut while he talks, missing the belt receptacle every time.

Rin rolls his eyes and snatches the seat belt ends from him, connecting them neatly. "Are you completely helpless?"

"Nah, I just don't really like seatbelts. Or cars. Or small spaces..." He glances around the inside of the cab; big windows, tonnes of leg room. "This is better than the train. I _hate_ the death tube."

Rin snickers. "That sounds pretty metal."

"You have no idea, okay? Those things are death traps hurtling hundreds of miles an hour through tiny tunnels and we're all just crammed in there like cattle waiting to be sl-"

"Okay okay, whoa. Got it, you don't like trains. Not like we're going in one."

"No," the cab driver says, glaring at them through the rearview mirror. "You're in a taxi. Planning on telling me where you're headed?"

"Shoot, sorry," Kisumi says, leaning forward and pressing a generous tip into the driver's hand. "Shimokitazawa district, please."

Kisumi continues to chatter about whatever subject crosses his mind while they drive. He points out buildings he's familiar with and tells Rin about all his favourite places, scrubbing his moist hands on his jeans. Rin gazes intently out the window and Kisumi's not sure he's even listening, but he feels the compulsive need to fill the silence so it doesn't get awkward. It's not exactly working.

"-took Hayato there once when we were looking for a different kind of clay for mom's birthday, and they have the best little cakes there, I swear-"

"I've been in Tokyo before, you know. Plenty of times."

"So you've been to that cafe before?"

Rin rolls his eyes. "Not that one in particular, no, but you don't have to act like a tour guide."

"Ah, sorry. I could tell you more about Sousuke if you want."

"Like what," Rin says. He manages to convey "impress me, bitch" with the merest twitch of an eyebrow. 

"Anything you want to know! How much has Makoto told you about him?"

"Not a lot," Rin admits, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into his seat. "He always tries to avoid talking about it. Insists they weren't really a thing."

If Rin wants to talk about this stuff, that's fine. Kisumi considers himself kind of the authority on all things Makoto and Sousuke related. "He's not lying. They were just fuck buddies." The cab driver makes an odd choking sound, but keeps his eyes fixed on the heavy traffic in front of them. Kisumi's sure he's heard (and seen) far worse, so he waves it off without a second thought. "Sousuke's got major problems with emotional intimacy and Makoto basically just feels sorry for him."

That gets Rin sitting up straighter, straining on his seatbelt as he leans closer. Kisumi notices he's got a stray eyelash on his cheek. "Wait, what? Feels sorry for him?"

Kisumi smiles. _Got him._ "To an extent, at first. It was kinda funny. Makoto thought Sousuke was really hot and that's kinda how they ended up in the sack together the first time; after our first time performing with an audience! I got so wasted after that I lost track of them and they snuck off and- okay, yeah, anyway. Makoto asked me later what Sousuke's story was. Like he was envisioning some kind of tragic past that made him into the lovely person he is today."

"All the charm of a cactus," Rin mutters. 

"Exactly! But the truth is, some people are just assholes. Sou had a pretty good childhood. The worst thing that ever happened was the divorce. I don't know, Makoto's one of those mediators. The type that feel like they need to fix everything and everyone. Sousuke's issues are probably what attracted him in the first place, and after that he kind of...just admired Sousuke's attitude a lot, I guess? And the sex was fantastic, I hear."

Rin's resting his chin on his hand, completely intrigued. Kisumi can't even remember the last time someone seemed so eager to listen to him. "Yeah, I can believe all that stuff. Wow, you're...far more perceptive than I thought."

"I told you before, I'm not stupid. I have people skills. I pay attention, especially to people really close to me. Sou and Mako are like...brothers."

"So you got jealous of me and thought you'd fix it by kissing Sousuke? Do explain."

Kisumi scratches the back of his neck and pulls at his seatbelt, loosening it a bit. Too tight. And why is the cab so hot? He rolls down his window a crack, glancing out of it and recognizing the convenience store on the corner. Getting close. "Yeah. I wanted his attention. I made a huge mistake, god, I'm so sorry. But it's a lot for me to take in! Makoto hardly has a minute to spare away from his computer now that he's with Nanase, Sousuke keeps talking about you with this light in his eyes like you're some kind of demigod or someth-"

"He does?"

"Well, yeah! Or a princess."

Rin gives him a puzzled look.

"He showed me that snap chat of you," Kisumi explains. "With the crown?"

"Aw, shit, that thing. Oh god. I fucking _knew_ it would come back to bite me in the ass." He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "Asshole."

"He wouldn't keep it if it wasn't important. I thought it looked good! Clearly a low-quality crown, but whatever."

"We can't all be rock stars," Rin laughs. "I'm doing the best I can on my meager income, dammit."

"We aren't stars. _Yet,_ " Kisumi winks. "But we will be. Trust me."

"You're gonna have to earn something like that back," Rin replies solemnly, eyes crackling like fire under the glow of a streetlight, face half-obscured by shadow.

Kisumi rolls the window down a couple inches more. Air...well, he fully intends to prove his worth. After tonight's plans, everything will be as it should.

 

 

"I thought you'd like it here," Makoto says, raising his fork to his mouth. "I know you don't get a chance to eat food like this often."

Haru smiles, cutting into his chicken neptune. His impressed at how it's cooked; moist, the perfect combination of seafood, and the sauce isn't too rich. "I wonder what the mackerel tastes like."

"I'm surprised you didn't order that instead." Makoto had gotten a steak with fried mushrooms that also looked perfectly cooked. Haru finds his mind wandering to grilling methods and marinade recipes. No, no. Cooking is no longer his future- although if it were, he'd definitely have to get on at a place like this.

Haru would have been perfectly happy getting cheap ramen from a street stall, but Makoto had seemed so excited to bring him here. It's an upscale place with fabric napkins and real silverware, and Haru might feel awkward in his jeans and hoodie if Makoto wasn't dressed in a similar fashion. All around them, couples sit at tables with white tablecloths and candles, wearing outfits that really should only be worn for funerals. "I panicked." 

Sitting in their private corner, both looking like they just came from a frat party, Haru feels a new level of intimacy. He feels comfortable, like they've gone back in time and they're clueless teenagers again, trying something new and exciting. Not fitting in, but doing it together. Their own little joke.

"Well, there are no bad choices here. The potatoes are so good I could cry," Makoto moans.

Haru loves watching him eat. He always enjoys every bite to its fullest. As a chef, there's nothing more satisfying than having someone fawn over their food like that. Hopefully he can cook more for Makoto this weekend and achieve the same results. Haru catches Makoto's eye before moving his fork slowly and deliberately towards Makoto's plate. Makoto lets him steal a forkful of mashed potatoes, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Garlic, butter, cream, a little salt; Haru can recreate these no problem, any time Makoto wants. He stores the idea away for later. "I think I'm too full for dessert."

Makoto shakes his head solemnly. "That's absolutely disgraceful."

"Sorry. But I'll try yours."

"Oh, no you won't," Makoto laughs. 

Haru takes a quick sip of his wine to cover up his smile. If they'd ever gone someplace like this years ago, Makoto would have insisted on skipping dessert if no one else was having any. Haru doesn't want him to miss out on fancy chocolate lava cake because of flimsy social stipulations. Besides, Haru has a back-up plan. 

When Makoto's dessert arrives, he distracts him by slipping off his shoe and carefully running his socked foot up the inner seam of Makoto's pants. Makoto gasps quietly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, and Haru makes his move, popping a bite of cake into his mouth before Makoto even notices he took it. More butter and eggs than in regular cake; he should be able to make this, too.

"This isn't the best place to get frisky," Makoto mutters, eyes dark, face tinged pink. "We can go home...?"

It's Haru's turn to shake his head. "Not until you finish your dessert."

"Okay, fine." He pushes the plate into the middle of the table. "You can help me."

"No, no. You said I couldn't have any."

Makoto brings another bite to his mouth, licking the fork clean afterwards in a very suggestive manner. "The faster it's gone, the faster we can go."

Haru makes use of his fancy footwork again. "Or you could get it packed up to take home."

Makoto drops his utensils, raising his arm in the air for the check.

 

 

Sousuke opens the door to his apartment, fully intent on punching Kisumi in the gut for making so much racket. They aren't exactly on the best terms at the moment, and now this. "I'm not going-"

"Look who I brought," Kisumi sings gleefully, pushing past Sousuke into the apartment and kicking off his shoes with no concern for where they land. Rin's less certain, standing hesitantly in the doorway with his hands in his back pockets. He looks damn good, staring up at Sousuke with so much intensity, so much curiosity and hurt and _blame_ in his expression that Sousuke casts his eyes to the floor to avoid it. 

"Nice shoes," he mumbles. 

"Nice shoes? Really? That's all you can think of to say?" Kisumi breezes past Sousuke again and takes Rin by the sleeve, tugging him into the entryway. "Rin's here for the weekend, so I'm taking him out tonight. Are you coming?"

Sousuke crosses his arms over his chest, willing himself to take deep breaths. Count to ten...don't think of all the different ways to murder Kisumi and dispose of the evidence... "If he wants me to come." He dares to lift his eyes and look in Rin's direction, searching for a reaction.

"I wouldn't let Cotton Candy over here drag me all the way to Tokyo if I didn't fucking want you to come," Rin remarks. "Of course I do."

It probably shouldn't come as such a huge relief, or even as a surprise, but hearing that from Rin's own lips (no matter how pouty they looked while saying it) melts the tension right out of Sousuke's shoulders. "Sounds...good. Where are we going?"

"Wherever Rin wants," Kisumi says, draping his arm over Rin's shoulders. 

"Wow, first name basis and everything," Sousuke remarks. "Didn't realize you were that close."

"Once you get a guy's passport number, it changes your relationship, Sou."

Rin doesn't brush Kisumi's arm off, and for some reason Sousuke finds that beyond irritating. He can't tell if Rin's doing it on purpose or not. "Where are we going, Rin?"

"Take me to your favourite place."

"Oh god," Kisumi whines. "That place is boring as hell. It's just a bunch of sad guys playing pool and drinking at the bar until their wives come and get them."

"Not if I get them first," Sousuke says. And his second impression on Rin is off to a roaring start...

But Rin laughs. "Yeah, that sounds like some place my coworkers would hang out, and they're all like, fifty. No thanks."

"Wanna go dancing?" Kisumi leans closer to Rin's ear, side-eyeing Sousuke provocatively. "Sou hates dancing."

"Let's go dancing," Rin smirks.

Sousuke sighs. "I hate both of you."

"Aw, don't be like that," Kisumi says, finally releasing Rin and heading off down the hallway. "You clearly hate me the most. I'm borrowing some better clothes from you!" He disappears into Sousuke's bedroom momentarily before poking his head back out. "I'll be in here for a while. Like, as long as you need to talk. Oh! Rin, you better put that flower in some water before it wilts."

"Shit, right." Rin takes his bag off his shoulder and opens it, pulling out a slightly crumpled yellow rose. "Do you have something I can put this in?" He peers around the place curiously, checking out the living room. Sousuke keeps it clean, if not always completely tidy, but he certainly doesn't have any decorative vases sitting around. Aside from the bamboo arrangement Hayato gave him for his birthday, but he keeps that in his room under the window.

"Nothing fancy." Sousuke leads Rin into the kitchen and rummages in his cupboard for a glass deep enough to hold the flower. He wills himself not to ask where it came from. Flowers make ridiculous presents; they're fragile and short-lived and make a mess after they die. Impractical. He fills the glass with water from the tap and sets it on the counter.

"Thanks. Do you have any scissors?"

Sousuke hands him a pair out of a drawer. Rin snips the end off of the stem at an angle and sets it in the cup, grinning softly. "So...what's that for, anyway?"

"Kisumi gave it to me." He shrugs, still smiling. So happy to receive such a small token of affection... "A peace offering, I guess. 'S nice. Cutting it like that increases the surface area of the stem that takes up water, so it'll hopefully last a little longer."

"Rin..."

Rin turns to him, expression sharp, direct, cutting through Sousuke's defenses like a sharpened katana. "Are we gonna be able to make this work? I like you, but...I need to know if this is worth my time. Should I even bother trying, or should I leave right n-"

"Don't. Don't leave. Stay." Sousuke's mouth feels so dry he's currently jealous of the flower. "I still haven't talked to Kisumi about...anything."

Rin nods, tapping his chin pensively. "...I like him," he finally says.

Sousuke raises an eyebrow. "You...like him?"

"Yeah. He seems like a good guy." Rin fiddles with one of the bracelets on his wrist. "He told me you're full of shit. Sounds pretty accurate."

Sousuke runs a hand through his hair, looking away, studying the rose. "I...love him. Maybe not in a romantic way, but I..."

"I get that. I really do. I have friends I feel the same way about. Friends that are so important to me I put their happiness above my own. I promise you I understand." He lets out a small laugh. "It's cute hearing you say it."

"Shut up."

"Nah," Rin beams. "I have the weekend off, how about we go out, have fun. Talk about things tomorrow. I'm already feeling a lot better about it."

"Sure. But before that, I want to show you something."

"What? It better not be your dick."

"As if you wouldn't be happy to see it. But no. Come here." Sousuke can't help but smirk as Rin pads toward him in his socks, a predatory gleam in his eye. He doesn't hesitate, just slides his hands gently up Sousuke's shoulders to wrap around his neck, pressing his lips against Sousuke's. It feels better than Sousuke was imagining, natural, like kissing his first crush. He settles his hands on Rin's thin waist, slipping his tongue past Rin's parted, inviting lips. 

Rin angles his face a bit more to the side, moving a hand up to cup Sousuke's cheek. His mouth tastes like mint and Sousuke realizes he must have been planning this, which makes the whole thing exponentially sexier. Rin, planning a seduction. He groans softly into Sousuke's mouth, and just as Sousuke feels his ears heat and the first tremors of arousal stirring in his belly, Rin pulls away, lightly biting at Sousuke's lip. "You really don't like dancing?"

Sousuke swallows, trying to catch his breath. "Hate it."

"Huh. That's a shame. Guess I'll have to dance with Kisumi instead."

"Fuck."

"Maybe later," Rin says, going to the end of the hall. "Hey Kisu My Ass, you ready?" 

"Yup!" He answers with such speed that Sousuke's sure he's been ready for a while, waiting at the door, listening. He comes out wearing clothes Sousuke doesn't even remember owning; red pants and a black sweater with a line of stars across the top. Kisumi's almost Sousuke's size, but slightly narrower in the shoulders, so the clothes fit well, if slightly loose. "Decide where we're going?"

"To hell, probably," Sousuke says. 

"Cool." Kisumi tucks his pant cuffs into his boots, lacing them tight. "Which one?"

Sousuke gestures to the rose on the kitchen counter. "Kurobara."

"I'm down with that."

"Black Rose," Rin says. "You said yellow means friendship; what does black represent?"

"Tragic romance," Kisumi quips instantaneously. "It's a super overdramatic club."

 

 

They stop on the way home to rent a movie Makoto wants to see, and end up walking the short distance from the rental store to Makoto's apartment building. "It'll be fun. I don't spend many nights in these days, unless I'm Skyping you." Makoto says idly as they walk through the bustle of people on the sidewalk. It's Friday night after all; there are plenty of people making their way around the city. Getting a cab would probably be even more of a hassle with this traffic. "I think Maguro-hime's starting to forget who I am."

Haru's practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of finally seeing where Makoto lives. And to meet his precious cat, of course. "It's impossible to forget you."

Makoto glances in his direction and Haru quickly looks away, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a darkened shop window. He takes a deep breath and knocks his hand purposefully against Makoto's, testing the waters. He'd love to reach out and hold it, but Makoto's career is finally starting to take off and this is where he _lives,_ maybe he doesn't want anyone knowing he's-

The plastic bag of leftovers rustles as Makoto shifts it into his other hand, clasping Haru's and twining their fingers together. He stops abruptly, pulling Haru the side of the pavement with a gentle squeeze. "Kiss me."

Haru does, rising up on his toes, pulling Makoto into it by the coat collar, warmth spreading through his chest and into his belly. Makoto's lips soften and his tongue slips into Haru's mouth, tasting of dark chocolate. Haru's gasping for air by the time they separate, face burning. "I wanted to do this in the airport."

"You made up for it in the cab," Makoto chuckles.

Haru flushes even more. So hard to talk about feelings. "No, I...with you standing up. I like how tall you are."

Makoto's face remains passive, but Haru can tell that information struck some kind of chord with him. "You're the same height you were in high school."

"I guess I stopped growing."

Makoto raises his hand and for one heartbeat Haru's convinced he's going to pat his head like a cat, but he runs his hand gently through Haru's hair instead, sighing. "I like it."  
Haru's scalp tingles where Makoto touched him. It was such a delicate touch, an echo of something that hasn't happened yet, something...Haru shivers.

"Cold?"

Haru shrugs. No no, he's not particularly cold; he's just having some kind of sexual-awakening involving pet play. He bites his lip and unconsciously pats the bag he's still carrying from the plane. Yes, the cat ears and collar are in there. _But there's no need to get overexcited about something like that..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com) as always.
> 
> I have the next chapter almost finished, so it should be up soon, guys. (Please note that 'soon' is incredibly relative when it comes to me.)


	28. Shut Up and Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What the hell are you doing?"
> 
> "I'm trying one," Haru says, fumbling to get the lighter to spark. He gets it lit and holds it to the tip. Nothing happens. 
> 
> Makoto rolls his eyes. "I can see you're determined to be stubborn, so let me help. First of all, you're lighting the wrong end."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how this happened, but this puts CYSM at over 100k words (and still going strong.) I honestly had no idea my first fanfic would ever become this long and complex. I'm so grateful to you guys for the kudos, comments, fanart, fanmixes, headcanons, and general support!
> 
> I'm going to go smile myself to sleep now... :D

Makoto's apartment is amazing. Not because it's a nice apartment; far from it- it's small with dingy walls and cracks in the ceiling; Makoto has to shove the door with his shoulder to get it to close properly. But it's amazing because it's Makoto's home. It has his smell and there are signs of him everywhere. The wristwatch on the counter where he obviously set it down and forgot about it. The towel draped across the back of the couch in the living room, still slightly damp from drying his hair that morning. A quilt clearly sent to him from his mother. Papers and open notebooks with half-written lyrics and nonsensical scribbles all over them scattered over the coffee table, Makoto's glasses sitting off to the side.

The hushed patter of little paws skittering across hard wood flooring... "Maguro!" Makoto bends down to pat the cat twining between his legs, rubbing her head against his knee. She's a gorgeous Himalayan with a dark face and perceptive sapphire eyes. Haru's seen her before, from when she interrupts Makoto's Skype conversations, but she looks much cuter in person. Haru would like to draw her some day. "I almost named her Saba," Makoto says, scratching behind her ears.

"Saba is a better name," Haru agrees, setting his bag down beside the couch. Then he notices the ashtray. Full of cigarette butts. And the half-used pack and lighter sitting next to it. "You said you were quitting!"

"Quitting wha- oh. That." Makoto at least has the decency to try and look guilty, even though he definitely isn't. "It's harder than I thought."

Haru picks up the pack, reading the label on the outside. "Have you seen the warning labels they have on North American cigarettes? With the rotting teeth and black lungs?"

"Yeah...I'm glad we don't have those here. They're terrifying."

Haru's so furious his hands are shaking. He picks up the lighter and pulls one of the cigarettes out of the pack, dropping it on the floor. Those pictures _are_ terrifying, and it's what's going to happen to Makoto if he doesn't quit. He could ruin his voice, the main thing driving his career. That, or something far, far worse...

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying one," Haru says, fumbling to get the lighter to spark. He gets it lit and holds it to the tip. Nothing happens. 

Makoto rolls his eyes. "I can see you're determined to be stubborn, so let me help. First of all, you're lighting the wrong end."

"Oh." 

Makoto picks the pack off the floor and pulls one out, putting the brown end in his mouth. He holds out his hand for lighter, but Haru shakes his head, stepping forward and lighting it, holding the flame up under Makoto's cigarette. Like they do in the movies. Makoto sucks in and the tip glows, catching fire. He pulls it out of his mouth afterwards. Holding it nonchalantly. Haru _hates_ how casually he does it, how cool he looks with it in his hand. Because cigarettes are awful and disgusting and will slowly and tortuously drain the life from Makoto's body, so how dare it look this sexy? Haru would love to toss the pack off the balcony, but he can't. It's Makoto's decision to quit. But maybe this will prove some kind of point to him and help the process along. 

"Suck when you light it, like it's a straw. But don't inhale," Makoto's saying. He puts it back between his lips and inhales, chest expanding, then releases a puff of smoke. The way his throat moves, how his eyes glitter like the embers at the tip of the cigarette- damn it, he makes it look so natural, so good, but Haru knows it's deceptive. All he has to do is smell the smoke and remember how it tastes when Makoto kisses him afterwards. Disgusting. No, cigarettes are the enemy here. But how can he have such strong opinions without ever trying one? It's past time that he does it. Then he won't feel like such a hypocrite.

He puts his own back in his mouth and lights the lighter, sucking like he's trying to drink a thick milkshake. It lights, and Haru's momentarily proud of himself. And subsequently ashamed at feeling proud of such a ridiculous thing.

"Suck some into your mouth and let it sit for a couple seconds. Don't want to burn your throat. Then inhale it."

Haru does so. He lets it sit, but it burns anyway on the way down. He splutters and coughs, pulling clean air into his lungs. He holds the cigarette as far away from him as he can, between his thumb and forefinger, like it's a soiled kleenex off one of the tables at the restaurant. 

"Try it again; you'll get used to it." Makoto takes another puff of his own, amusement playing across his face.

Haru sighs and brings it back to his lips. "People are stupid to try this a second time." This inhale burns slightly less, though it's unpleasant. The smoke tastes awful.

"Hm." Makoto crosses over to open the balcony door and let in some cool night air. "I guess so. It's more of a social activity for most people."

Another puff. When he exhales, some goes out his nose and sets him off coughing again. He'd give up all his swimsuits for a glass of water right now. "Why did you start?"

Makoto sighs and takes a seat on the couch, patting the spot beside him. Maguro jumps up before Haru can sit, kneading the cushion with her front claws. Haru narrows his eyes and sits on Makoto's lap instead, fully intending to slide off onto the other side of him, but Makoto's arm closes around him. "You barely weigh anything."

Haru ignores him, going right back to his smoking question. "Was it Yamazaki?"

Makoto shakes his head, gripping his cigarette in his mouth so he can scratch Maguro's belly. Haru's starting to feel ill, so he lets his rest in his hand at his side, slowly burning down of its own accord. "Sousuke doesn't smoke."

"You don't have to lie."

"He doesn't! Besides joints. Kisumi's the smoker. He was already doing it when I met him."

Haru huffs. _Kisumi._ "So that asshole was never anything other than a bad influence and a bad friend." Haru feels a slight stab of unease for leaving Rin in his clutches. But a quick text to see how Rin's doing quickly sates the guilt. He leaves his phone on the coffee table in case Rin answers.

"Haru, don't- no, he's really not like that. Anyway, what happened is that..." Makoto stops to clear his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, softer. Haru knows immediately that this is an important story. "We were playing at a bar once in uni. Uh, it's all kind of fuzzy, but some guy was giving me a hard time and I, well, I was trying to ignore him but it was...he was saying some pretty bad shit."

Haru hardly notices that his fists clench just as hard as his heart. How dare people talk to Makoto that way. How _dare_ they.

"Anyway," Makoto continues, stroking Haru's thigh. "Sousuke stepped in, because he's like that. There ended up being this huge fight, and one of the other guy's friends ambushed Sou from behind and- uh, that's how his shoulder got fucked up. The guy kind of twisted his arm back hard enough to rip the tendons. He had to get surgery on it after that and couldn't play guitar for such a long time after." 

Makoto closes his eyes, leaning back and taking another drag of his cigarette. Haru understands that it's soothing to him. He feels the rhythm of Makoto's chest rising and falling against his back and waits for him to continue.

"Hearing Sousuke scream like that when he got hurt...like I said, it's fuzzy, but I kind of lost it, from what Kisumi told me after." Makoto scratches the back of his ear, nervous frown on his face. "We took Sou to the hospital. I didn't want to be alone, so I went out with Kisumi for his smoke. I was in shock and my hands were all shaky and there was a lot of blood and it wasn't mine and...I don't know, he offered me one and I took it, just so I'd have something to focus on. Didn't take long for me to get hooked."

Haru trails his finger over the back of the hand on his thigh, tracing the grooves of Makoto's knuckles. "You fought someone?"

"I don't like thinking about it. It was terrifying. I try to go out of my way to _avoid_ conflict."

Haru leans in and kisses Makoto's cheek. "I know. You've always been like that. But you don't have to be terrified. I'll take care of you."

Makoto smiles and turns to give Haru a close-mouthed kiss. "I'm not scared of getting hurt," he murmurs. "I'm terrified of hurting someone. I broke _bones_ , Haru. And I didn't even feel bad about it. I'd do it again. That's the part of me I'm afraid of."

"You're a protector," Haru says, reaching over to put his cigarette out in the ashtray. Hands now free, he cups Makoto's face, looking straight into his eyes. "You'd never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. I trust you."

Makoto swallows and squeezes his eyes closed, face pale. "You probably shouldn't. I'm not the same person anymore."

"Yes, you are. You've always been dangerous and I always knew it." Haru sighs and presses another resolute kiss to Makoto's lips, willing him to open up. He keeps his firmly closed, but Haru finds he doesn't mind. There's something so relieving about the way Makoto shows his true emotions instead of bottling them up. Haru gently rubs Makoto's chest as he pulls away. Maguro lets out an annoyed mewl as their weight shifts on the couch. "Do you have any joints?"

Makoto's eyes snap open at that. "What?"

"I don't like the cigarettes. I want to try weed."

"Haru," Makoto groans, mouth tugging into a smile. "You're crazy."

 _It's your fault._ "You said Sousuke smokes it. Do you have any?"

Makoto's eyes twinkle as he thinks. "I might...but if I don't, it's not hard to get some around here."

 

 

 

Dolphin Dong (20:04): did u make it to the hotel

Sent! (23:28): decidded to go out indstead. i'm fine thoeugh, having fun.

 

"Need another drink? I can get you one."

Rin slips his phone back into his pocket and nods to Kisumi. "Might as well, since Sousuke's buying." He nudges Sousuke obnoxiously in the arm as he's talking. "So this is the lifestyle of a musician, huh?"

"More or less," Sousuke replies. 

Kisumi slides out of the booth and straightens his sweater, preparing to make another trip to the bar. "We usually go out after work for a drink or two. Mako writes better lyrics when he's got some juice in his system."

"'A drink or two,'" Sousuke snorts. "More like a dozen."

Kisumi shrugs and smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like you're any better!"

"Geez, you're all gonna have massive liver problems when you're old." Rin sighs and stretches out his legs under the table, glancing towards the door. It's getting later and the place is starting to fill up, a few people even milling awkwardly on the dance floor, drinks in hand. For now the music is muted, lights up high, everyone waiting for the evening to really begin. Rin's already feeling a buzz, not just from his previous drinks but from anticipation of what the evening will bring. "I'll be in the same camp after tonight."

"Tonight's gonna be awesome," Kisumi says over his shoulder as he makes his way to the bar with a definite skip in his step.

As soon as he's in line, Rin turns to Sousuke, setting a hand on his arm. "Sousuke."

"You know you're not actually whispering, right?"

"Shut up. My new goal is to get laid tonight."

Sousuke sets his drink down on the table, wrapping his arm around Rin and pulling him close, pressing his mouth into Rin's hair, just above his ear. "I think that can be arranged." His hot breath sends shivers down Rin's spine.

"Yeah, lots of good-looking people here. I'm sure I can find someone to...to-"

Sousuke licks Rin's earlobe, sliding a hand down Rin's thigh. "I wish you the best of luck."

"I missed you," Rin admits, spreading his legs to allow Sousuke better access. "Even though you're a jerk."

"I know. I'm sorry." Sousuke trails kisses down Rin's neck, free hand moving up to grip his ponytail and tilt his head. Rin surrenders, letting Sousuke do as he pleases. He likes the tugging at his hair, the way Sousuke sucks at his throat, nipping at his skin with his teeth. "I'll make it up to you."

"S' creepy hearing you talk like this," Rin sighs, melting under Sousuke's touch. "I like it."

"You're a romantic sap."

Rin tries to shake his head, but Sousuke's still got hold of his hair. "I'm leaving that lifestyle behind. Wait and see. I can keep things casual."

"Yeah? Why don't I believe that?" He bites down on Rin's shoulder, hard enough for it to sting. Rin gasps; he loves it, the way Sousuke's marking him, showing intense interest in him, but at the same time, he knows it's probably just the effects of alcohol and the moment. He steels himself and pulls away, pushing Sousuke back.

"I can _be_ casual. I don't need a committed relationship."

Sousuke rests his chin on his hand, face painted with condescending intrigue. "Right."

"I don't need you, Sousuke. I can get anybody here. Because I look great tonight."

"You do look great."

"Shut up."

"I agreed with you!"

Rin squints. "You're laughing at me."

"Never."

"I can tell by the way your eyes look."

Sousuke shakes his head in amusement, picking up his glass again. "You're drunk. It's cute."

"So 're you."

An actual laugh this time, though it sounds more like a stifled cough. "I'm not cute."

"I meant drunk!" Rin feels the need to punch Sousuke's arm, so he does it. He gets a broad smile for his trouble, and finds himself thinking that Sousuke should smile more often. "Now you're cute."

" _Rin,_ hey!" Kisumi stumbles into the table in his rush, narrowly avoiding dropping the two bottles in his hands. "This song is awesome! Come dance."

Rin now notices how crowded the dance floor has gotten, bustling with girls in skimpy dresses and guys with far too much gel in their hair, glasses in hand, grinding on each other while the music pulses in the background. Rin takes Kisumi's hand and hauls himself to his feet, headrush making him unsteady. "Come on, Sousuke."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"He always does," Kisumi explains. "He's too cool to do anything remotely fun."

"Let's show him what he's missing." Rin makes his way toward the dance floor with Kisumi right behind him, refusing to glance back at Sousuke. He's just like all the older husbands that like to sit at the tables on the sidelines with their beers, watching the young women dance and making lewd comments about their breast sizes to their friends. _Lame._ Rin's actually incredibly glad Kisumi's accompanying him; Kisumi's enthusiastic, cheerful, and, Rin's finding, an excellent dancer. He raises his hands in the air and shakes his hips in rhythm with the music, lip syncing the lyrics. Listening hard, Rin picks out the words- they're all in English. 

Kisumi seems to know all of them, though Rin can't hear his voice over the din of the crowd. Still, he's hypnotized by the way his lips form each word, the way the colourful light plays over his face, lighting up his hair like a halo. He's truly gorgeous, Rin thinks. He can admit it. He can't remember the last time he saw a guy with such pretty features (especially those eyes!) and he's tall with a great physique, too- _dammit, what the hell are you thinking?_

Rin turns his back to Kisumi so he can look out at Sousuke, who waves from his seat, wearing a smug smile. Well, Rin _can_ get anyone he wants. He doesn't have to go home with Sousuke. There are so many people here; yes, Sousuke's the one he'd prefer, but the shine has worn off since finding out about that kiss. Rin refuses to let himself get excited about it this time. Maybe it's better to stay away from guys like Sousuke. _Too bad Kisumi's not gay..._

Rin berates himself for thinking such a thing. Kisumi was part of the problem in the first place! Kisumi and Sousuke are best friends who love each other enough to make a drunken mistake involving physical intimacy, something Rin's not unfamiliar with. Is this strange relationship dynamic something he wants to get entangled in right now? All he's looking for is a simple, straightforward relationship. He's tired; he wants someone to come home to at the end of the day, to talk to while they make dinner together and occasionally go out on dates. Something steady and real. Not...whatever the fuck this is. 

Whoa, whoa. This train of thought is getting him nowhere fast. Tonight is supposed to be about getting drunk and having a nice time, not over analyzing everything. Rin breathes deeply and opens himself up, allowing the music to flow through him and dictate his actions, moving his feet and swaying his hips. _Just have fun. Don't think._

But it's difficult to do when he's got Sousuke's gaze piercing him from across the room, Kisumi's comforting presence behind him and voice singing in his ear; there are hands on him and he doesn't know who they belong to, but they feel warm. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

Sousuke stands and takes off his jacket, laying it across the table. Rin figures he's going to get another drink, shocked when he heads straight for them. He pushes his way easily through the crowd, tugging Rin toward him by the hips. Rin lets him, though a huge part of him wants to resist it.

Rin smirks up at Sousuke, whose face looks deceptively passive. He's not a terrible dancer, just more subtle with his movements, still managing to grind against Rin with every roll of his hips. Rin mouths the last words of the song as clearly as possible.

_"Shut up and dance with me."_

He grabs Sousuke's hand the before the next song can start, dragging him toward the back exit, quickly checking over his shoulder to make sure Kisumi isn't following them. He makes a shooing motion with his hand, and Rin feels a surge of guilt that Kisumi knows what he's about to do. Or maybe he feels guilty that he's about to do it; he isn't sure, and at this point he doesn't care. He wants to stop being in control and let things happen. He also has the crazy, self-destructive need to make sure Sousuke never fucking forgets about him again.

He opens the door into the alley, peaking out. Several people are out there, lounging against the brick wall, cigarette tips burning in the shadows. No good. He closes the door, pushing Sousuke into a dark corner. There's nobody watching them, not that Rin cares much if anyone is. He'd rather not do this in a puddle of urine, so the bathrooms aren't an option. He drops to his knees, hands roaming over the front of Sousuke's jeans.

"I thought you could get anyone here," Sousuke murmurs.

"This is easier." He undoes Sousuke's belt and tugs his pants and underwear down enough to pull out his cock. "Wow. Almost forgot how fucking huge you are." Even only half-hard, he's still impressive. Rin's starting to salivate already. He wants it in his mouth, choking him, ruining him.

Sousuke crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall as Rin starts to stroke him. Rin loves how hot it is in his hand, heavy and firm. The evidence that Sousuke wants him. He doesn't care anymore if this relationship is heading anywhere; for the moment, he just wants to feel. He already knows Sousuke can make him see stars, so what's the point of looking any further? He licks a line up the underside of Sousuke's erection, palming his balls with the other hand. It feels good to touch him after so long. He pumps harder, working the foreskin back and pausing to give Sou's tip a kiss, followed by a swirl of his tongue. 

"Hm, Rin." Sousuke runs his hand over Rin's cheek, sliding it into his hair and pulling his hair band out. Rin ignores that, focusing on bringing Sousuke's cock to full hardness. "People might see us."

"I know," Rin says, moving his hand from Sousuke's balls and working it up under his shirt, stroking the hair of his treasure trail, following the grooves of his glorious abs. So tight, so hard. Rin presses his thighs together, ignoring his own arousal for now. "Seems to be doing wonders for you." 

"Fuck...it's hot."

Rin has to agree. They could be caught at any time, this would amount to a public indecency charge if Rin were on duty. _The more people who see this, the more proof there is that it happened._ Let everyone see. Sousuke's been as broody as ever, which had Rin turned on from the beginning, and then, miracle of miracles, he'd come and _danced._ Rin has no idea why he'd done it; probably not to make him happy (no point hoping for something so absurd) but either way, he'd earned Rin's attention. "Did Makoto ever do this for you?"

"What?" Sousuke's fingers tighten slightly in Rin's hair, enough to exert pressure but not enough to hurt. 

"Blow you in public." He brushes his thumb over Sousuke's slit, still pumping his wrist.

"No," Sousuke grunts. "But you're not actually blowing me yet."

Rin looks up to meet Sousuke's eyes. They shine despite the shadows, reflecting the light from the crowded room behind them. The rest of his face is darker, but Rin can tell from his slightly parted lips and slack expression that his cheeks are flushed. Damn, Sousuke's sexy when he's turned on. "Do you want me to?" Rin gives Sousuke another lick for emphasis, enjoying the way he shudders.

"Hell yes."

Rin smirks and kisses the tip once more, sliding his lips down Sousuke's length, taking in as much as he can. Which isn't much at all, compared to the full size of Sousuke's cock, but what he can't fit into his mouth his works with his hand. He pulls his head back, takes an even breath, and then draws him in again, managing to fit a little more this time. He swallows hard, tightening his throat, using his free hand to gently scratch the groove of Sousuke's hip. Sousuke bucks his hips in surprise, cock pushing further down Rin's throat.  
Rin adjusts his breathing and uses both hands to press Sousuke's hips against the wall, pulling his off his dick as slowly as possible, sucking at the tip before letting it slide out of his mouth. "Dammit, that hurt," he says, massaging his jaw. "Do you wanna get bit?"

"Sorry," Sousuke replies, voice husky.

Rin runs his thumb over the spot on Sou's hip again, grinning when he jolts. "Sensitive here, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. For fuck's sake, Rin, are you gonna finish what you started or what?" Rin glares at him in response. Sousuke cups his chin, tilting his face up. His voice is low and dark when speaks again. "...I kind of _do_ want to get bit." 

"Really?" Rin leans forward, kissing along Sousuke's sensitive spot, grasping his cock at the same time giving it a squeeze. He starts to stroke, gently, licking and nipping Sousuke's skin, producing the most delightful shiver. Sousuke's cock grows harder in his hand, twitching. Rin uses his thumb to collect the precum at Sousuke's slit, spreading it over the head and paying careful attention to the delicate spot at his underside. Sousuke's hands tighten in Rin's loose hair, tugging with more urgency, and Rin bites down harder in retaliation.

Sousuke groans, one hand leaving Rin's hair to press against his mouth and stifle the sound. The reaction sends tendrils of heat straight to Rin's groin. "This is still just a fancy handjob," Sousuke pants.

Rin rolls his eyes. "I could stop entirely."

"Don't. Please."

 _Please._ Rin kisses his way up the underside of Sousuke's cock, using his fingers to massage the tip, stopping to suck at the sensitive spot. "I expect reciprocation."

"I'll make sure you're satisfied. That's a promise."

"Good, 'cause I'm horny as fuck." With that he tightens his grip on Sousuke's erection and strokes upwards, slipping the tip back into his mouth. He bobs his head in time with his stroking, running his other hand through the coarse hair at the base before tracing the teeth marks on Sousuke's side, causing him to twitch. He tightens the pressure of his lips, swirling his tongue over the slit, sliding his hand between Sousuke's thighs and cupping his balls again. He gives another hard suck and pumps faster, hearing Sousuke's breath hitch. 

"Shit," Sousuke grunts. Rin feels his balls tighten in his hand and takes Sousuke's cock in has deep as he can, swallowing tight around him. Sousuke's hands leave Rin's hair, finding purchase on the wall as he quivers and comes, gushing in hot, thick spurts down Rin's throat. Rin continues to stroke him through it, swallowing all of it down until he runs out of air, pulling back and spluttering for breath, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. 

For once, Sousuke actually looks somewhat rattled, breathing heavily and using the wall to support himself, legs and hands shaking as he tucks himself back into his pants. "You're really fucking good at that." Rin's slightly alarmed at how much pride he feels at knowing he's the one that got Sousuke into this state.

"I know," Rin laughs. "You were too high to appreciate it last time."

"It wasn't this good last time."

"I guess the more pissed off I am, the better it gets," Rin says, getting to his feet. His own cock aches in his pants, tempting him to take Sousuke into the bathroom and let him fuck him there after all. There are probably condom machines in there. If there aren't, he's sure he could find other ways to put Sousuke to work... 

"We better check on Kisumi," Sousuke says. Rin feels like screaming. Kisumi? Really? How long has Sousuke been thinking of _Kisumi_ for? But now that he's been mentioned, Rin feels a touch guilty for leaving him so abruptly. 

"He's probably found some girl to dance with by now." Rin could swear it's been at least half an hour, but maybe that was just in their own little time warp. The flow of bodies on the dance floor is even more intense now, the atmosphere in the club like a taut elastic band about to snap. Rin rubs his jaw, eyes darting rapidly in search of Kisumi. He finally spots him at their table, watching the dancers with a distracted frown on his face. Rin can't think of a time he ever saw Kisumi frown before. He doesn't even perk up when he sees them coming. 

"Sorry we disappeared," Rin says.

"No problem," Kisumi replies. "I figured that would happen. I'm just...tired."

He so obviously lying that Rin's momentarily stunned by it. No facade, no chipper attitude. Pure, unfiltered Kisumi, drunk and complete with deep emotion. If Sousuke's concerned expression is anything to go by, this doesn't happen often. This is serious.

Sousuke slumps down into the seat next to Kisumi, jostling him. Kisumi hardly even reacts; even in the sporadic lighting beaming in from the dance floor, Rin can see how drawn and pale his face is. Sousuke fixes his gaze on the back of Kisumi's lowered head. "Kisumi."

Kisumi scrubs at his face quickly and then sets to work peeling the label off his beer bottle, shrugging. Sousuke doesn't spur him on, but he also doesn't stop staring, and Rin figures he has a method for getting Kisumi to talk. He wonders if maybe he should leave, give them a little privacy...

"...Nervous," Kisumi says, voice so weak Rin's can hardly be sure he said anything at all.

Even Sousuke looks surprised to hear that. "About...?"

"About the show." Kisumi scratches flakes of label-glue off with his fingernail. The table shakes slightly under Rin's hands, and he's sure it's because Kisumi's knee is tapping against the table leg. He really doesn't look well. 

"You've never been nervous before," Sousuke says. 

"It was _fun_ before. Now it's work. Now it's stressful. What if I screw it up? Oh, god," Kisumi groans, running a hand through his hair. Rin actually feels sorry for him. He remembers seeing something like this somewhere before, but he can't quite place where. Some people don't do well with such great expectations placed upon them. It makes sense. "Why did I drink so much? What if I sleep through my alarm?"

Sousuke has the grace to stifle his laughter, eyes flickering in Rin's direction before he tentatively pats Kisumi's back. "We don't even have to be there until eight. You'll be fine."

"I'm just, I'm gonna stay awake," Kisumi says. "I can't sleep."

"You're half asleep already," Rin points out. 

"I need coffee!"

Rin kicks Sousuke's leg under the table to warn him not to laugh. "Where can we get coffee at this hour? It's-" he checks his phone- "It's after one!"

Sousuke shrugs. "I have coffee at my place."

Kisumi makes a strange keening whimper in the back of his throat. 

"What the hell was that?"

"Can we stop by the studio on the way? I need to...check something."

"You can check it all before the show," Sousuke grumbles. "That's what set up is-"

"Sounds fun," Rin interrupts, speaking loudly. "I wanna see your studio. It's where you record everything, right?"

Kisumi sits straighter, eyes lighting up. "Yeah! It's awesome. We'll show you everything! Might have to trespass to get in, though..." he adds as an afterthought. "But c'mon, Sou. Let's take him."

Rin raises an eyebrow, triumphant smirk already forming on his lips. He doesn't even care that he has to pass up on Sousuke's promise to fuck him. At the moment, cheering Kisumi up seems far more rewarding. His face should always be carrying a vibrant smile. 

Sousuke rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine."

"I just remembered," Kisumi says, a touch more of the usual enthusiasm in his voice. "They have a coffee machine in the break room."

Rin grins. "Let's get fucking _caffeinated_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com)


	29. Make You Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru smiles, heart clenching at the thought of what could have been. Yet, he feels safe, secure. At peace with the way things are now. "There's a universe where I kissed you." He nods, sure of himself.
> 
> "And how might that kiss have gone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the wiki, Makoto's best subject is literature. The poems in this chapter are by Matsuo Bashō and Kobayashi Issa.
> 
> I'm not sorry about any of this.

"Hold it in longer or it won't work." Makoto monitors Haru carefully as he catches his breath after his second coughing fit. "It might not affect you the first time anyway."

Haru narrows his eyes slightly in that rebellious "I'm going to fucking do this" way of his, raising the blunt to his lips. They're up on the roof, the door to the staircase propped open with one of Makoto's shoes. Other people in Makoto's building come up to smoke all the time, so he's not worried about anyone getting pissed about it. The important thing is to keep it out of the apartment. He's read that cannabis is poisonous to cats and he's not about to risk it.

Haru inhales without choking this time, clamping his mouth shut.

"Exhale now," Makoto whispers, patting Haru's thigh. They sit side by side with their legs stretched out in front of them, leaning on the wall.

Haru expels the smoke with another cough, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. "It burns. Why do you do this?"

Makoto shrugs, taking the joint out of Haru's hand. "I don't very often." He takes a hit and holds it a few seconds, exhaling slowly. "But sometimes it's worth it. It's relaxing." He passes it back; Haru's turn.

"Swimming is relaxing," Haru says. He takes two hits in a row, and Makoto doesn't stop him. It'd be a lie to say he's not curious of what Haru will be like high. By the time they finish, Haru's had far more than Makoto. He's fine with that. He's had enough to relax him and lift the stress of tomorrow off his shoulders.

Makoto takes Haru's hand, rubbing small circles into the back of it with his thumb. "Feeling anything yet?"

Haru shakes his head. "I don't think it's working...Makoto?"

"Mm? What?" The evening breeze feels good on Makoto's hot face and also helps to blow away the pungent aroma.

"Does Tokyo have any stars?" He tilts his head back, gazing up at the sky with a glassy expression, face in heavy relief from the orange glow of the light humming faintly above the exit sign behind them. "Can you ever see them?"

Makoto knows without looking up that the stars aren't visible. Maybe a few satellites or airplane lights are, but no real stars. There's too much light pollution for that. Makoto finds the neon signs and flashy advertisements blaring across the city entrancing and even beautiful most nights, but he's had time to adjust to them. He hardly notices the lack of stars, the lack of natural beauty in _any_ capacity, unless he's made an explicit visit to the park in order to see some trees. Yet he remembers his first few months in Tokyo, still rattled by the move, all the change, friendless and frightened, turning to the sky for some familiar comfort and finding nothing. He reaches out and strokes the back of Haru's hand, lightly trailing the pads of his fingers over the silky ridges of his knuckles. "Not often. But I know they're still there."

Haru tears his eyes away from the sky and stares at Makoto, expressionless. "Poetic. Real, real poetic. Like." He shifts onto his knees, using Makoto's shoulder for support. "Like that thing, the one about the pond."

Makoto wracks his brain, thoughts coming to him and slipping away again like he's dragging a sieve through the water. "What are you...? What?" He can't tell if Haru's sentence didn't make any sense or if he's the one incapable of understanding it.

Haru smiles, hand still warm on Makoto's shoulder. "You were good at literature in school, what was that poem about the pond? The frog?"

"Oh, oh! I know the one you mean. Basho." Makoto clears his throat, being theatrical for Haru's benefit. _"The old pond; a frog jumps in- the sound of water."_

Haru's beaming now. "That's the one!"

"What do frogs have to do with stars?"

"The pond. They're both...it's hard to explain." Haru grips the front of his shirt, turning his face back to the sky. "They both give me this _feeling,_ you know, it's really deep, really...like space and water and the human brain at the same time, all open and connected..."

Makoto can't help it; it's so adorable seeing Haru like this. He's practically glowing with excitement, like one of the stars he misses so badly. Makoto starts to giggle, warmth bubbling up through his chest that he can't contain. He doesn't _want_ to contain it.

_"Summer night,"_ he quotes, pulling up words he didn't even know he was still holding on to after all these years. _"Even the stars_ __are whispering to each other.__ _"_

Haru's eyes glitter as if they are stars themselves. "Beautiful."

Makoto chuckles. "Issa wrote that. Didn't you pay attention in school?"

Haru shrugs, smiling, and curls himself up next to Makoto's side. Makoto wonders vaguely if he's cold. Is it cold? There's a breeze, but Makoto can barely feel it. Temperature seems as irrelevant as time.

"Words...words are so hard, Makoto," Haru sighs, lifting a hand in the air and examining his fingers, stretching and wiggling them. "So hard to find the right ones. Usually I choke on them, but right now I feel like...I could say anything I wanted."

"You can always say anything you want."

Haru shakes his head slightly. "I wish I could open myself up and show you everything. Why isn't there a way to do that yet? I should paint it for you, all the colours you make me feel. Colours that nobody's ever seen before."

And Makoto can't seem to stop laughing, because dear god, who allowed Haru to be this open and talkative and affectionate? Showing a side that Makoto knew was always there, locked deep down. So deep that Makoto sometimes had occasion to doubt its existence. But no, here it is, soft and steady and resplendent in its rarity. Another Issa poem comes into his head; he can practically see it there on the pages of his second year English textbook, underlined in blue ink because it was one of the ones that Makoto liked the most. " _A lovely thing to see: through the paper window's hole, the Galaxy."_ And yet he'd never truly understood it until now.

Haru tangles his fingers in Makoto's, suddenly urgent, warm palm roving over Makoto's skin. "You're not all greens and yellows and browns," he whispers, reaching with his free hand to run his fingers over Makoto's eyebrow, tracing the lines of his face, brushing his eyelashes. Makoto closes his eye to avoid being poked, giggling harder. It tickles. "There's red inside you; not the same kind as Rin. No. Warmer. And dark, dark blue, almost black. They're...it's," his mouth trembles as he struggles to find the right words. "So...big. What's that word?" He pulls his hand away and moves his hand through the air in a wave, like he's mimicking a snake's movements. "It's...vast! So vast. Deep. Say the one about the stars again."

"I'll tell you a different one," Makoto says, pulling Haru close, arms aching to be filled with his presence. Haru's exactly the right size, the right thickness, the right shape and smell and _feel,_ pushing outwards with his being, filling up Makoto's empty spaces like an active force. Like water, taking its container's shape, leaving no spot untouched. " _The first firefly,"_ he hums into Haru's ear. " _But he got away and I...Air in my fingers_."

Haru traps him with his intense gaze, mesmerizing, and touches Makoto's lips. "It's so perfect, Makoto. Makoto." He's not sure why Haru keeps saying his name, but it gives him a giddy head rush each time, pushing him further from reality and its complications. "You were my first firefly, Makoto. After that there was so much, only air in my fingers, and now," he slides his hands through Makoto's hair. "Now they're full again."

Makoto leans in and kisses him, savouring the surprised sound that escapes the back of Haru's throat, the brush of his lips, soft and full on Makoto's own, warm and inviting and tasting faintly of smoke. It's like two universes have come together. The sun and the moon in the same sky. When they  finally pull away, Haru's fingertips tremble against Makoto's cheek, but his eyes are wide and shining, beautiful despite the cloudy redness edging his eyelids.

"Mako?" _Mako._

"Yes?" The tip of Haru's nose is rosy, as are his cheeks. Makoto pinches it between his thumb and finger, trying to find out if he's blushing. "You're cold."

 "I want a bath. With you in it."

Makoto can't help but laugh again, louder this time, because he should have known. "Sure, sure. Let's have a bath."

 

 

Haru leans his back into Makoto's bare chest, breathing in steam and shivering as the water begins to heat his chilly skin. Makoto's hands are so big and warm, resting casually on Haru's hips, and his strong thighs cage in Haru's on either side. Haru can feel Makoto's chest rising and falling with each breath, the slight poke of his nipples brushing Haru's back, and of course, the soft length of his cock pressing into Haru's ass. This is the most pleasurable bath Haru's ever had in his life, and he's fairly sure he'd think so even sober. Which he'll admit, he currently is not. He doesn't feel much different- well, perhaps more comfortable, more at peace. But he can tell some of the thoughts he's having are ones that would never come to him sober. It's new and exciting and _elating._ "Makoto?" The name leaves a pleasant, heavy taste on his tongue. Like thick chocolate pudding. Or, or cake. _Lava cake._

"Mm?"

"I'm hungry." He could go for those leftovers right now. And some noodles. And pizza, definitely a pizza. He wonders what pizza would taste like with left over mashed potatoes on it.

Makoto ruffles the back of his hair and kisses his neck before replying. "You want to get out and make something?"

Haru considers this. He kind of really does, but at the same time he's never been in a more comfortable position in his life. It's like he's floating through the sky. No resistance... "You should bring the leftovers here."

Makoto snorts. "Oh, _I_ should, should I? Are you the queen or something?"

"I'm your guest."

"You're my _boyfriend,"_ Makoto giggles. "Guests have to sleep on the couch."

Haru turns with a splash and clings to Makoto's shoulders. "No. I'm sleeping in your bed." His heart flutters in his chest, vaguely panicky. A butterfly caught in his ribcage. He almost laughs.

"I'll get you something to eat," Makoto says, pressing another kiss to his lips before hauling himself to his feet with a groan. He stands knee-deep in the bath, water cascading down his skin in rivulets, following the grooves of his muscles, over his ass, and trickling down his thighs back into the tub. He's so beautiful that the butterfly in Haru's chest starts fluttering even harder. He'd love to follow the water's movements, licking and touching his way all over Makoto's body, memorizing every curve, every hard plane, every angle. Just as Haru reaches out to touch a droplet of water clinging to Makoto's ass, he steps out of the bath, grabbing a towel from the rack to wrap around his waist.

He leaves the door open when he exits, and some of the steam escapes the bathroom, the cool air replacing it actually relieving the heat of Haru's cheeks. He can hear Makoto rummaging around in the kitchen, the beep of microwave buttons, and then the low whirr as is starts. "Do you need anything else?"

"Some water," Haru calls back. His mouth does feel awfully dry.

He hears a light, keening purr as Maguro slinks into the bathroom, coming to sit on the floor beside the tub, looking up at Haru with inquisitive eyes. He reaches out a hand to her, water drops running down his arm and collecting in thick drops on the end of his fingertips. Maguro sniffs curiously, then licks one.

"Do you want to come in?" Haru asks her. She gives him a slow blink. He leans his chin on the edge of the tub, studying her whiskers and the fur pattern on her face. "You're the one rejecting the water, silly cat. It would accept you if you tried."

"Maguro doesn't like swimming," Makoto says, arriving with styrofoam leftover containers in his hands. He drops the towel (to Haru's delight) and gets back into the tub, this time sitting across from Haru with his legs crossed, albeit at an odd angle because the tub is rather narrow. Haru pulls his own knees to his chest, taking the container Makoto gives him. It smells like garlic and chocolate and dreams. He digs in with his finger, since Makoto hadn't had the foresight to provide spoons. He'd also forgotten to bring water, but Haru can make do drinking from the faucet later. He sucks his finger thoughtfully, finally understanding why all those high teenagers like to come in just before the restaurant closes and order insane amounts of food. It's one of the most incredible sensory experiences he's ever had. The food tastes _perfect;_ he'd give anything for an endless supply of it. A whole box of donuts would not go amiss right now.

"Haru," Makoto snorts, shoulders shaking. "You're making the funniest face. You should see yourself!"

"I can't believe we're having a date in the bathtub," Haru replies, basking in the glow of Makoto's smile. With that wet, slicked back hair, he looks so damn handsome. Haru reaches out with his foot and prods Makoto's leg with his toe, then stretches out his legs and drapes them over Makoto's knees. He loves being this close to him, touching him any way possible. "I've always wanted to."

Makoto raises a brow. "Not always."

Haru nods, licking mashed potatoes off his thumb. "Always. I think I wanted you before we were even born."

"That makes no sense."

"No, no, it does. We were just two stars floating around out there until we were born, you know. Maybe we were together in a past life."

Makoto tries to subdue his laughter, but it rumbles out of him like the purr of a contented cat. "I like that. Like soulmates?"

"More like...kindred spirits. Soulmates don't exist, Makoto." He can't help his smile.

"Oh, I see."

The sound of water dripping from the tap behind Makoto's back. Ripples in the surface of the water. Maguro yawns from her perch on the toilet seat.

"Makoto?"

"Yes, _Haruka?_ "

Haru drops his container to the floor, lamenting the fact that the food is already gone. They really should order a pizza... "What would have happened if I kissed you that night? Instead of running away." He closes his eyes and recalls the brilliant bloom of fireworks in the distance, colours playing across Makoto's face, his mouth caught up in a snarl, brows furrowed in frustration...

Makoto lays aside his empty container, too; Maguro leaps from her vantage point to nose at the remains. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. So handsome. His eyes twinkle. "I would have kissed you back. So hard."

Haru smiles, heart clenching at the thought of what could have been. Yet, he feels safe, secure. At peace with the way things are now. "There's a universe where I kissed you." He nods, sure of himself.

"And how might that kiss have gone?"

Haru leans forward, Makoto's hands closing around his wrists to help pull him forward, to anchor him, oh-so-differently than that night. Haru gazes at Makoto's mouth, then his eyes, their impossible depths, little flecks and imperfections, like raw emeralds. He imagines he sees the glare of fireworks reflecting from them, pressing his lips to Makoto's as urgently as if they've gone back to that moment and he's desperately trying to hold on. _He's moving to Tokyo...he's leaving._

Makoto wraps his arm around Haru's lower back, bending him as he deepens the kiss, taking what he wants, and Haru gives it. He gives up everything, _would_ give up everything for Makoto. His fingers dig into Makoto's shoulders as their tongues move together, tasting each other; Haru draws Makoto's tongue into his mouth and sucks, tangling his hand in Makoto's hair. Makoto moans into his mouth, hot and breathless, releasing his grip on Haru's wrist. Haru wipes the saliva from his lips as they pull away, panting.

Makoto stares at him, expression surprised, but not without a slight element of calculation. "Would you really have kissed me like that?"

_Yes. No._ "What if I had?"

Makoto leans back, grinning. "I would've liked that."

"Would you have...stayed? In Iwatobi?"

Makoto doesn't even consider it. "No. I would have asked you to come with me. Why? Would you have asked me to stay?"

Haru shakes his head. "No." _Just like I won't say anything about you going on tour, even though I'll miss you so much it hurts._ "But not because I wouldn't have wanted you to."

Makoto cups Haru's face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "We would have moved to Tokyo and gotten an apartment together," he says, voice low and gentle. "I would have gone to University and you would have found your dream, in the meantime. By now I'd probably be teaching elementary school. I'd come home to you every day after work. We would have spent all our free time together, picking out furniture, grocery shopping. Making love on rainy afternoons."

Something about Makoto's expression, the darkness in his eyes, the dangerous power exuded by the motion of his thumb over Haru's skin; it terrifies him. Everything feels so far away. Time has gone all wrong. It feels like the water's dragging him down again, heavy and cold, and he doesn't know why. Regret? Maybe. Is this feeling really loss?

A series of images sweeps through Haru's mind. Makoto pretending to be happy when he wasn't, shoving everything deep inside, pushing his problems away for the sake of others. Forever hiding his real feelings, in a way so different from the way Nagisa had. Makoto's too clever, adept at camouflaging his emotions. Haru can see another timeline, a treacherous, unbalanced one, full of unfulfilled promises and whispered threats, hidden sadness and distance- so much distance, pulling them apart. Changing, growing into different people, falling apart slowly and painfully.

"Maybe," Haru whispers. "Maybe we weren't ready for each other yet." He wraps his arms around Makoto's neck, digging in tight. He wants to cling all night, feeling Makoto's heartbeat, his breathing. They don't even have to have sex. Just this is enough. Haru realizes that it always was.

 

 

 

 

 

Kisumi's anxiety ebbs slightly as they draw nearer to the studio. His fingers tremble as he enters the passcode into the door alarm, hoping it won't go off. Rin and Sousuke hang behind him as he hurries down the hall to the room where their equipment is kept. He doesn't mind; rather, he feels guilty for dragging them here like this when he knew what they were up to. He'd _seen_ them from around the corner, Rin on his knees, hair falling over his cheek, Sousuke with that look on his face. Kisumi never imagined Sousuke could be capable of such a sultry expression.

If Kisumi were doing the right thing, he'd leave them so they could go home and make up. It's what Kisumi was hoping for with this whole scheme, after all. But now...now he's being selfish. He doesn't want to be left alone tonight. He suspects if he tried calling Makoto, he wouldn't get an answer at all, and it wouldn't be fair to wake up Hayato at this hour. None of the women at the club had caught his eye, either, though he probably could have gone home with someone if he'd wanted. But he didn't.

"Whoa," Rin gasps, entering the room as Kisumi flicks on the lights. His face floods with genuine delight as he looks around, drawn straight to the instruments set up in the corner. "So cool!"

"Are you two seriously wanting coffee?" Sousuke asks.

"Yup," Kisumi nods. "Lots of it."

 "I'll go do it," Sousuke replies. "Take care of that _thing_ you said you had to check." He disappears towards the break room.

Rin's crouching down in front of Sousuke's guitar, which currently rests on its stand. "Fender, awesome. What kind is it?"

"Oh god, don't ask him. He'll talk about it for ages. The bass is a Yamaha."

Rin strokes the glossy blue finish on the guitar, pensive. "He does both?"

"Yeah. He records the bass ahead of time," Kisumi says, scanning his drum kit to ensure no pieces are coming loose or anything. It all seems to be in order, but still...better test it. He sits, taking up his sticks, and tosses them in the air with a flourish. "Too stubborn to get a fourth member or anything. Keeps insisting he can do both, even when it strains his shoulder." He taps out a brief solo, just checking to make sure everything sounds right. It does. He's painfully aware of Rin's eyes on him. Normally he'd love the attention, but from Rin it's so... _intense._ "Do you play anything?"

"I learned some guitar when I lived in Australia. Acoustic though, and nothing special."

"Excited to watch him tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

Kisumi laughs, tapping the cymbal. "Sou looks really hot when he's playing. You'll love it."

"Oh, yeah. That." Rin's cheeks flush pink, he tucks hair behind his ear, glancing at the guitar again. _So pretty._  "I'm only here to see Makoto."

"Ouch," comes Sousuke's voice from the doorway. He has the coffee pot in one hand, half full, and two empty mugs in the other. "I already put about ten spoonfuls of sugar in yours," he says to Kisumi. "Drink it fast so we can get out of here."

"Get out of here and do what?" Rin asks.

Sousuke replies with a pointed look that says _you._ Rin smirks, pouring coffee into his mug and raising it to his lips.

"Think I'd rather stay here," he murmurs, taking a sip.

"Seriously?"

Kisumi can't hold in his guffaw. "It's almost like the world doesn't revolve around your dick, Sousuke."

"Shut up," Sousuke snaps, falling into one of the chairs under the window.

"It should, it's fucking big enough," Rin says, which causes Sousuke's expression to relax just a little bit, his dick size evidently restoring some of his pride. The tension between the two of them is so thick, Kisumi wishes he could take matters into his own hands and force them to kiss and make up.

"Hey, Rin, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Does it...hurt?"

Rin stares blankly for a moment, then blinks, mouth curving into a wicked grin. "Sousuke's giant horse cock? Yeah, kinda. At first." And now all Kisumi can picture is Rin naked on his back, gasping and quivering as Sousuke pushes- no. _No._ Kisumi's been down this road before. Never a good plan to imagine friends in bed together. He'd even walked on Makoto and Sousuke (more than once, though the lord was merciful enough not to let him see much.) But he'd never felt like this. _Curious._ It must be something about Rin. Kisumi's sure he must just be excited about his new friend, and the prospect of him maybe sticking around in Sousuke's life. Making him happy. "You ever tried butt stuff?"

Sousuke snorts. "Kisumi? He's such a fucking wimp, that would never work."

" _Excuse_ you, Sousuke. For your information, I dated a chick that was into that once." He scratches the back of his neck with one of the drum sticks. "But a single finger is way...smaller."

"That's for sure," Rin says, putting his mug down on the small table next to Sousuke's chair. He pours coffee into the mug meant for Kisumi. "You gonna drink this?"

"Yeah, please." Kisumi takes the mug from Rin's hands, still seated on his stool, irritated at the bulky instrument in front of him for blocking him from the rest of the room. He feels barred from the conversation somehow, though that's stupid. "Hey Sousuke, what's the biggest you've taken?"

"Why the fuck are you asking this stuff?"

Kisumi shrugs, eyeing him steadily. "Was it Makoto?"

"Yeah," he answers sourly.

Rin taps his chin. "There's gotta be something equally offensive I can ask _you,"_ he says thoughtfully, mischievous light in his eyes.

Kisumi almost chokes on his coffee. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be offensive. Just curious."

"It's actually fucking sad that I can't think of a rude sex question for a straight guy," Rin sighs. "Nobody thinks it's gross if I ask you about boobs."

"I disagree," Sousuke grumbles.

Rin glances at him impishly. "Let's talk about breasts, Kisumi. I like 'em small and perky, what about you?"

Kisumi shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "You made your point, I'm sorry. I won't ask about dicks anymore. I wasn't thinking."

 "He wasn't trying to be rude," Sousuke says to Rin. "He's like that naturally. You get used to it."

"Sorry," Rin replies. "Nagisa's like that too, but for some reason it never gets to me 'cause he's gay. With straight guys it just pisses me off."

Kisumi perks up. "If it helps, I'm only like...ninety-five percent straight. We could say I'm...open to suggestions. I definitely don't think it's gross or weird or anything. Come on, Rin, all my friends are gay."

Sousuke raises an eyebrow but stays quiet. Rin takes it far less gracefully. " _Open to suggestions?_ So is that...I mean, when you two kissed. Tell me more about that."

"Why," Sousuke growls. "Let's just forget it."

Rin faces him dead on, an emitting an aura that makes Kisumi cringe. "I don't want to forget it," Rin retorts caustically. "I can't stop thinking about it."Shit. _Shit. Abort mission._

Sousuke just looks tired; Kisumi can practically feel his walls going up. "I can't take it back," Sousuke says, subdued. "I'm sorry."

"It was entirely my fault," Kisumi blurts. He should keep his mouth shut, he should leave and let them work this out, he's going to ruin everything like this. But he can't stop talking. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have dragged you guys out like this. I should've left you alone, I should-"

" _No,"_ Rin barks, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't stop thinking about you guys kissing _and I like it._ I like...fuck, fuck- this is so fucked up!" He scrubs at his face, messing up his bangs, and all Kisumi wants to do is hug him and take all his problems away. "I think I have a crush on Kisumi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com) and _yes,_ I'm already working on the next chapter. ^^


	30. More's The Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're an amazing kisser."
> 
> "What it says on the label, babe," Kisumi laughs, winking.
> 
> "Kisu-mi," Rin muses. "You're right. Gonna have to change your name in my phone now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the ova still ruining anyone else's life? -_-
> 
> (This chapter is the culmination of the collective efforts of evamylee0, princemerboy, brainindacloudz and pretty much everyone who commented on the last couple chapters. I'm dragging you all to SouKisuRin hell with me. #YOLO)

_Matsuoka Rin has a_ crush _on me!_

Kisumi's heart lurches violently in his chest. His opens his mouth to say something, not that he knows _what,_ but it dies on his lips when he catches sight of Sousuke's expression. He looks completely frozen, glassy and blank. Kisumi's only seen it a few times. Like at the wedding a few years ago, when Sousuke's dad got remarried. _This is very bad._

Rin takes a step over and smacks Sousuke lightly on his good shoulder. "Oi! Don't make that face. It's freaking me out."

Against all odds, it works. Sousuke blinks, looking up at Rin with a frown.

"It's not a big deal," Rin continues with an air of contrite irritation. "I just think it'd be hot if you guys made out. I kinda wish I could have seen it."

"I don't want to kiss Sousuke," Kisumi says. _Stop. Stop saying words!_ "I want to kiss _you._ " _Oh my god._

Sousuke's silent, mouth set in a grim line, but Kisumi can tell his interest is piqued. He's like a well-trained guard dog who can _see_ the meat, but hasn't been told he's allowed to eat it yet.

Rin swings his head around. "You want to kiss me? So I want to kiss both of you, and you both want to kiss me. Let me...let me get my mind around this." He gives a nervous laugh. "Sousuke made this stupid joke about a threesome when he, when he told me, y'know."

Kisumi's practically vibrating, bouncing in his seat and twirling his drum sticks between his fingers. "Like I said, I'm open to suggestions."

"You're kidding, right? This is a fucking joke." Rin's blushing so hard his ears are red.

Kisumi makes mistake of making eye contact with Sousuke, whose eyes are shining with amusement now. "I wouldn't kick him out of bed," Sousuke says with a noncommittal shrug. "If it'll make you happy."

"This isn't funny," Rin spits. He looks like a cat on edge, strands of hair sticking up in disarray. "I'm trying to be serious."

"I'm serious," Kisumi intervenes.

Sousuke crosses his arms. "I'm dead serious."

Rin raises his head, eyes narrowed. "You...you've both had threesomes before?"

Sousuke nods brusquely.

"I have," Kisumi says. "Actually once I think I had a foursome, it was really dark and confusing and I'm not-" Sousuke's eyes snap toward him. "Right, anyway. They're fun!"

Rin goes quiet, considering. "Prove it, then. If you're so serious, make out for me." He pulls up the other chair and takes a seat, determined set to his jaw. Kisumi's out of his seat before Rin's even settled, crossing the room and straddling Sousuke's lap, hands on Sousuke's shoulders to steady himself. He glances over his shoulder at Rin, hoping for a smile. Rin makes a little "get on with it" motion with his hand, unimpressed. Kisumi's pulse quickens at the high arch of Rin's eyebrows. Kisumi's never seen anyone so naturally, unassumingly gorgeous. _He should be smiling._ Kisumi faces Sousuke, trying to fight down the sudden laughter that threatens to overflow.

Remembering the kiss from the other night, Kisumi takes a steadying breath. _Take this seriously._  "Come on, Sou, I know you want it."

Sousuke, completely collected, seizes the front of Kisumi's shirt and crushes their lips together, kissing with a fervent urgency Kisumi isn't prepared for. He gasps, and Sousuke takes advantage of his surprised exhale to force his tongue into Kisumi's mouth, commanding and strong. Kisumi sinks into the kiss, humming in the back of his throat and settling into a rhythm, rocking his hips. The thought of Rin watching has his belly tying itself in knots, pleasure trickling down his spine. He wonders what kissing Rin is like, all those sharp teeth, that dangerous smile, that magnetic _tension..._

Sousuke pushes him off, face passive except for his eyes, which blaze with dark heat. They look past him, seeking out- "Rin." Sousuke's voice is low and raw, intimate enough to make Kisumi's ears burn. He cranes his head to see Rin leaning on the table for support, hand over his mouth, face flushed red, eyes sharp and searching.  

"You're really serious," he breathes, voice unsteady.

"If you want to, yes. If not, I'll take you home and fuck you into the mattress right now, just us."

Rin grips the table so hard his knuckles go white, pupils dilated. "No, I want to. I want- fuck, I'm so...yes. I can't even believe I'm saying it, but yes."

"Oh heck yes," Kisumi whoops, pumping his fist in the air. "This is gonna be-" He's cut off when Sousuke shoves him hard in the chest, pushing him off his lap. "Ow, hey!"

Sousuke stands, straightening the front of his shirt, face still stony. "Where are we doing this?"

"Your place is closest, right? Let's get there before I remember what a terrible idea this is and change my mind."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm out of fucking lube," Sousuke growls, coming back into the living room and tossing an open box of condoms on the coffee table.

Kisumi blinks, sitting cross legged on the couch. "It's that important?" _Kimono MAXX,_ the box says.

"Fuck yes," Rin snorts. "Lots and lots of lube. Drown me in it. You can never have too much lube."

"Ah, well. Guess that makes sense." Kisumi can hardly contain himself. He'd practically skipped the entire way back to Sousuke's. He didn't fail to notice that the two of them walked side by side, not speaking or looking at each other, but brushing shoulders just the same.

"Gonna go get some; convenience store down the street should be open." He glances back over his shoulder on his way out, cracking a lopsided smile. "You two better be ready for me when I get back. I hate wasting time." The door closes behind him with a soft click.

Kisumi smiles, a rush of giddiness coursing through him. "I can't believe you have a crush on me."

Rin rubs the back of his neck, shifting on the couch to face him. "I can't help it. You're fun to talk to and you...bringing me and Haru out here, and the rose..."

Kisumi leans over and tilts Rin's chin up to look at him. He's blushing so hard Kisumi can feel the heat on his skin, but he doesn't seem scared. He barely even seems embarrassed, a challenging gleam in his eyes. Everything about him is fiery and passionate and _feeling,_ and Kisumi's insides quiver as he stares, chest pounding. "You deserved all of it."

It starts off soft, lips brushing over each other, pulling apart to gaze into each other's eyes and then pressing together again, slow and exploratory. Rin's hands slide over Kisumi's chest, one to his cheek, the other to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck. Kisumi sighs, catching Rin's lower lip between his and sucking gently.

"F-fuck," Rin pants, and Kisumi lets his hands glide down to Rin's hips, tugging up his shirt. It feels so natural, not different because he's a man, but because he's _Rin._ Kisumi's never been with someone like this before. "You're an amazing kisser."

"What it says on the label, babe," Kisumi laughs, winking.

"Kisu-mi," Rin muses. "You're right. Gonna have to change your name in my phone now."

Kisumi pulls Rin's shirt over his head; he lifts his arms and emerges with tousled hair, smirking. Kisumi's entranced by the elegant sweep of his collarbones, the sharp angles of his chest muscles, his smooth, pale skin. He kisses Rin's lips once more, full and chaste, then moves along his jaw and down his neck, using his tongue, _tasting_ him. Rin tilts his head back, groaning right in Kisumi's ear, making him shiver. "Change it to what?"

"Hm...hahh..." Rin gasps when Kisumi brushes his knuckles down his chest, over his nipple. He's never done this with a guy, but he knows girls like it, and why should this be any different? It's odd touching firm, hard muscle instead of squishy, full breasts, like he's used to, but not unpleasant in the least. Rin's reaction spurs him on, and he bends his head to lick and suck at the other one. "Fuck!"

Next thing he knows, he's being pushed back into the couch cushions, Rin straddling his lap and grinding against him. Kisumi can feel how hard he is through his pants, bulging against his thigh, and suddenly he's salivating, heat surging into his own crotch. Rin presses a hungry kiss to his lips, twining his tongue around Kisumi's, hands finding their way up the front of Kisumi's shirt. Rin's hands are warm, fingers strong but careful, tracing the grooves of Kisumi's abs and causing him to squirm.

"God, you're so pretty," Rin says as he pulls away, helping Kisumi out of his shirt. Kisumi blinks, chest heaving.

"You think _I'm_ pretty?" Rin's the pretty one. Especially now, with his hair tangled, falling in his face, cheeks tinged pink, eyes gleaming like hot coals.

"You're fucking _gorgeous,"_ Rin murmurs, slipping off Kisumi's knees and sinking to the floor. He reaches for the buttons on Kisumi's pants, eyes narrowed, mouth turned up in a wicked grin. "Been thinking about how pretty you'd look with your cock in my mouth."

Kisumi almost chokes on his own spit. "I saw what you did to Sou earlier. I could do something for you, instead. Haven't you given enough?"

Rin's expression softens and his fingers halt their work on Kisumi's zipper. "You...that's..."

"I mean, I've never sucked dick before, but I'm not afraid to try."

Rin laughs, beautiful and musical. "Nah. Not in the mood for fumbling disappointment tonight, y'know."

"Heyyy, I probably wouldn't be _that_ bad. It's not like I don't know how it's- oh my god-" Kisumi gasps as Rin yanks his pants open, pulling his cock out of his underwear. Rin holds it in his palm, staring at it like it's the end of diet week and this is his reward.  

He arches one eyebrow. "You have a fucking junk piercing."

"I know, I was there when I got it."

Rin eyes it with curiosity, which only makes Kisumi swell even harder in his hand. "It looks cool. Hurt a lot?"

"I was drunk, so I didn't feel much," Kisumi explains. "But it was sore for a while after. Masturbating sucked." He'd gotten it on a whim after a bad break up a few years back. Not one of his best-planned choices, but he's never regretted it. "Now it feels kinda good. Exotic and erotic, as they say."

Rin makes eye contact and smirks before shifting his hand to grip Kisumi's base, licking up the underside of his erection and tonguing the sensitive skin around the frenum piercing, a barbell settled just below his cockhead. Kisumi pushes back Rin's stray bangs, steadying his breathing as Rin sucks him in. _The teeth aren't as scary as I thought,_ he thinks, loving the way Rin works his tongue. He's vaguely aware of the front door opening and the sound of Sousuke taking off his shoes. "Whoa, ohh," he shudders.

"Damn, you're loud," Sousuke says, appearing in the doorway. Rin pulls his mouth off Kisumi's cock with a wet pop.

"Took you long enough," he teases. Kisumi catches the slight restraint in his voice. He's more nervous than he's letting on.

"Hey, Sou," Kisumi chimes in, trying to ease the tension. "You never told me Rin's such a giver. You should come over here and take care of him."

Finally, gods be thanked, Sousuke smiles. A genuinely enthusiastic one. Kisumi can physically see the apprehension evaporating from Rin's countenance. "You're really okay with this?" Rin asks.

Sousuke nods, removing his jacket and shirt as he comes toward them. "Yeah. Because it's Kisumi. Who the hell would be threatened by _him_?"

"Are you saying you don't think I could steal your boyfriend if I tried?" Kisumi gasps in mock offense. "Frankly, I'm offended that you would even-"

"Shut the fuck up," Sousuke snorts, undoing his belt and dropping his jeans. He's wearing nothing but tight navy boxer-briefs that only serve to highlight his enormous hard-on.  He's all rippling, toned muscle- Kisumi's seen him shirtless a thousand times, but he's never considered him in a sexual light before. He really is attractive, looking like he stepped off the cover of a men's fitness magazine. The betta fish tattoo on his shoulder seems to move in a swirl of colour as he gets to his knees behind Rin, running a hand between his shoulder blades. Rin sits back, tilting his head to reach Sousuke's mouth, and the kiss they share is possessive and greedy, full of raw power that seeps into Kisumi's bones. Sousuke teases Rin's nipples while they kiss, making Rin squirm and gasp, and _damn_ if Kisumi couldn't get off on just watching.

"You taste like metal," Sousuke mutters, undoing Rin's pants and sliding them down his thighs. Kisumi doesn't bother concealing his moan when he finally gets to see Rin's cock, flushed red and already glistening with precome. His thighs are even paler than Kisumi imagined- lean muscle, sharp hipbones.

"That's Kisumi's dick piercing," Rin chuckles, balancing himself on Kisumi's knees while Sousuke peels the skinny jeans off his legs. "Good, huh?"

Sousuke reaches back for his jacket and pulls a tube of lube out of the pocket. Kisumi puts his hands on Rin's shoulders and leans forward, excited to see how this is going to work. "Forgot about that thing," Sousuke's says, squeezing lube onto his fingers. "Blocked it out of my memory."

"You've seen it?" Rin asks.

"Asshole likes to walk around naked in other people's homes," Sousuke grits, hand moving out of Kisumi's line of sight. Rin gasps and grips harder on Kisumi's knees the next instant, spreading his own legs open further and arching his back.

Kisumi's cock twitches in his lap and Rin takes it in his hand again, running his tongue over the head. "It's not my fault you didn't have any towels in the bath- ohh, god, in, in the bathroom," Kisumi manages, breathless.

"It's entirely your fault! I had to use them to clean up the wine you spilled, remember?" Sousuke's arm jerks rhythmically back and forth, slick squelches filling the room and making Kisumi flush. Rin moans around Kisumi's dick and starts rocking his hips back into Sousuke's fingers.

Rin pulls off, stroking Kisumi in his hand and pressing soft kisses to the underside of his erection, hot breath on Kisumi's skin. "C'mon Sousuke, gimme your cock. I'm fucking _horny_."

"I'm gonna fuck you nice and slow," Sousuke drawls, bending to kiss Rin's back. "Gonna make you come so hard. Hey, Kisumi."

"Uh huh?"

"Open a condom for me. Fingers are slippery."

Kisumi picks the condom box up from the table and pulls one out, tearing open the foil. Rin keeps languidly sucking and licking him, watching while he does it, massaging Kisumi's inner thighs with his thumbs. Kisumi hands the condom to Sousuke and then goes back to ruffling Rin's hair, keeping it back out of his face. He glances up in time to watch Sousuke pull his erection out, and _shit,_ he's huge. He rolls the condom down and puts more lube on, then spreads Rin's cheeks open. "Ready?"

"Yep," Rin grunts. "Do it."

It's absolutely mesmerizing watching Sousuke's cock disappear inch-by-inch into Rin's ass, Rin quivering and groaning and digging his nails into Kisumi's legs.

"Oh fuck, _fuuuuck, yes,_ " Rin moans, and Kisumi moves one hand to grip his base, lest he jizz from Rin's sounds alone. With the other hand he keeps smoothing Rin's hair, wincing because come on, taking something that big has _got_ to hurt. He can tell it does by how red Rin's face has gone, forehead covered in sweat, his eyes unfocused.

Then Sousuke grips Rin by the hips and starts to move, slow and hard, like he promised. He slides his cock almost all the way out with each thrust, pushing back in with a squelch and a whimper from Rin. Rin's given up trying to suck Kisumi off, just clinging to him and resting his cheek on Kisumi's thigh. Kisumi doesn't mind, running his fingers over Rin's cheek and wondering at how beautiful he looks with such an aroused expression.

"Don't. Let. Him. Touch. Himself," Sousuke grunts out between thrusts.

"Ooh, some kind of game, huh?" Kisumi giggles and takes Rin's hands, twining their fingers together. "I'd let you cheat, if you want," he whispers, leaning down for a kiss. Rin licks into Kisumi's mouth, tasting bitter and metallic. Kisumi doesn't mind in the least. The kiss is sloppy and wet, Rin unable to coordinate it with Sousuke's movements.

"Harder," Rin gasps, pulling away. "Fuck, Sousuke, I'm not fucking around!"

"I think you definitely are," Sousuke answers, but he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Rin sits back on his knees, gripping Kisumi's hands so hard it almost hurts, and starts moving his hips in time with Sousuke's. His cock leaks a steady dribble of precome, and he arches his back more when Sousuke starts working his nipples again, nipping at his neck.

"Gonna come," Rin groans. "Oh god, right there, _yessss..._ " Sousuke pumps up into him as Rin shudders, eyes screwing shut. He cries out Sousuke's name as he comes, thighs shaking, spurts of jizz soaking into the carpet in front of him. Sousuke fists his cock and strokes it through his orgasm, swiping the last glistening drops from the tip and licking it off his tongue as he meets Kisumi's eyes. Kisumi knows what it means. _Mine._

Kisumi gives him a wink in return as Rin pitches forward into his lap, eyes closed, struggling to catch his breath. Kisumi gives him a long, leisurely kiss, sucking on Rin's tongue, gazing at Sousuke through his lashes whenever he gets the chance.

Rin takes a shuddering breath after they part, tucking his sweaty bangs behind his ear. "Oi, Sousuke. You come?"

"Nope." He pulls out of Rin with a wet sound, peeling the empty condom off and tossing it aside. He looks smug, but he can't see the predatory gleam in Rin's eyes that Kisumi can.

Rin hauls himself up, stretching his arms and back with a satisfied smile. "Sounds like a task for you, Kisumi."

Kisumi blinks, surveying Sousuke's body. Finding it doesn't exactly turn him off. "You think so?"

"I wanna see what Sousuke looks like taking it," Rin says. "I haven't had the chance to do it myself, yet."

Sousuke shrugs, accepting the challenge. "Sounds good to me. In bed, though. I'm getting rug burn."

 

 

 

 

 

Rin sits at the head of the bed with his legs splayed, Sousuke resting against him. Rin holds his arms tightly, assuming the "don't let him touch himself" rule is still in effect. Sousuke doesn't say anything, but if his face is anything to go by, he's into it. Rin kind of suspected he'd enjoy being pinned down as much as he loves doing it to others, and Kisumi's big enough and strong enough for the job.

"Not as gross as I thought," Kisumi says, pulling his fingers out of Sousuke's ass and wiping the lube off on the sheets.

" _You're_ gross," Sousuke mutters, and Rin laughs at how petulant he sounds.

"You're just bitchy because you know I'm about to rock your world," Kisumi hums, putting on a condom. For some reason, Kisumi's clothing and enthusiastic, childlike air had made Kisumi seem somehow smaller than he actually is; naked, Rin can see nothing but hard, corded muscle. He's got the best arms Rin's ever seen, and he loves how they flex when Kisumi catches hold of Sousuke's legs, pushing them open. He peers down at Sousuke's cock like a curious cat, glancing up through thick lashes before lining his dick up with Sousuke's hole. "Geez, you're tight."

"What'd you expect?" Sousuke closes his eyes as Kisumi pushes into him.

Once he's all the way in, hips flush against Sousuke's ass, he looks up at Rin with a pleasured expression that makes Rin's heart race. "Is there some kind of trick to this?"

"Find his prostate," Rin advises. "I feel like he's gonna pretend not to feel it, though, so it might be- oh, his hips are sensitive." He points to the dark bruises left from their session at the club.

"Shut up," Sousuke snaps, but there's little bite to it. Kisumi goes to work immediately, lightly fingering the teeth marks as he starts to rock his hips. Sousuke exhales, hips twitching. Rin loves the gentleness and intimacy Kisumi conveys with each caress; it's such a contrast to Sousuke's fast-paced, brutal style, and he can't decide which one of them he likes more. Sousuke has a way of driving Rin half-crazy with need, while Kisumi...well, Kisumi acts devious, but he's actually heart-achingly sweet.

"Lift your hips up more," Kisumi pants, sweat beginning to drip down his face. His whole body glistens with sweat as he finds a rhythm, biting his bottom lip and moaning freely. "Ahh...hah, frick, this angle's no good."

Rin finds Kisumi's mild curses charming. A true prince. Kisumi releases Sousuke's legs, shifting so that his chest is against Sousuke's and they're face to face. He raises himself up on his arms, rolling his hips experimentally. Sousuke's eyes widen and his arms strain against Rin's. "Let go," he gasps, and Rin does. Sousuke hooks his hands under his knees and pulls his legs up to his chest, Kisumi sighing delightedly as he slips in even deeper. "There."

Kisumi smiles, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Rin leans in and kisses him sweet and slow, loving Kisumi's ragged breath in his mouth. Then he bends down to kiss Sousuke; it's all clash of teeth and tongues, Sousuke drawing Rin's lip into his mouth and sucking. Rin roves his free hands over Sousuke's chest, searching out his nipples, teasing the little metal rings in both that he hasn't had a chance to properly play with before today. He's definitely forming a kink for body piercings. _Exotic and erotic, indeed._  

Kisumi starts fucking in earnest, fast and deep, the entire bed shaking with his efforts. Sousuke groans quietly into Rin's mouth, barley audible over Kisumi's much more obvious sounds, and Rin pinches both nipples harder, rolling them between his fingers. Sousuke stiffens slightly, cock twitching where it lies on his belly, tip shiny and wet.

"There, Kisumi," Rin instructs, warmth blooming in his chest. Watching Sousuke draw closer to orgasm has him feeling light-headed and happy.

"Got it," Kisumi replies in a strained voice. He moves faster, muscles clenching and flexing with each thrust, and Rin can tell by his glassy, dark eyes and flushed face that he's not going to last much longer either.

Sousuke lets his leg slip, reaching blindly for Rin's thigh beside him, clinging tightly to him as he quivers. "Sh-shit," he growls, arching his hips as his cock twitches violently, come splattering over his belly and chest in sticky ropes. Rin gives his nipples one more twist as he finishes, sweaty and panting.

"Victory," Kisumi gasps, pulling out. He tosses the condom over the side of the bed, taking hold of his cock and giving it a few rough strokes.

"Wait," Rin says, trying to extract himself from behind Sousuke, who's being utterly unhelpful. He pinches Sousuke to get him to lean forward and Sousuke chuckles, smacking his ass on the way by. Rin rolls his eyes, crawling up to kneel in front of Kisumi.

"Are you sure? Think of where this just was." _What a motherfucking gentleman._

"You had a condom." Rin gives Kisumi's tip a kiss, licking the bitter wet off his lips, then draws him into his mouth. He bobs his head once, twice, sucking his cock in as far as he can, and feels Kisumi's hands in his hair, as gentle as ever, even as he trembles and cries out in orgasm. Rin takes his entire load, coughing slightly as he pulls off, and Kisumi drags him into a sensual kiss.

Sousuke's propped up on his elbows, watching them with his eyebrows raised. "So?"

"...That was pretty fucking awesome," Rin admits. "But, uhm..."

"I think I'm having a sex-istential crisis," Kisumi sighs solemly, draping his arm over Rin's shoulder. "That was like, the best thing ever. Next time I wanna do you, Rin. Or you can do me."

Rin's chest cinches tight. "Next time?" His head is starting to hurt, regret already starting to creep up and settle under his skin. _Should've thought this through._

"Yeah," Kisumi says cheerfully, cupping Rin's cheek. "Don't look so gloomy. I wanna ask you out."

"You wanna...what? But..." He looks to Sousuke, who gazes back with an unperturbed expression. "I thought...I thought Sousuke and I were..." _Dammit. Don't fucking cry now._ "Never mind, I don't know what we are."

Kisumi shoots Sousuke a glare, smacking him on the leg. "You ass. Ask him to be your boyfriend already."

Sousuke clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable at being put on the spot. "Look, I'd be a shitty boyfriend. I've tried it before and I just...I'm not what you want, Rin. Trust me."

"You really are an ass," Rin snaps. "You _are_ what I want. I like you so much, and you're not even willing to try?"

"I'm willing to try! I'm just saying, I'm gonna disappoint you. I'm really not into all that romance stuff you like. I hate it."

" _I_ like that stuff," Kisumi says cautiously.

Rin rubs his temples. What the fuck had he been thinking? How could he have possibly thought a threesome would end well? "Yeah, well, too bad I can't have both of you," he tosses out bitterly.

After a moment of silence, Kisumi speaks up, tentative. "I don't see why you can't. If you want to. Sousuke's cool with it."

"I actually...wouldn't mind," Sousuke agrees slowly. "I'm used to open relationships."

Rin feels a stab of nausea deep in his gut. "I'm...no. Because I don't want you sleeping with anyone else. Only me. That's what I'd want. Well, unless it's Kisumi."

Sousuke shrugs. "Fine by me."

Rin looks frantically between Sousuke and Kisumi, the former with an infuriatingly nonchalant expression on his face and the latter looking like he's trying very hard to hold in a barrage of questions. _Has everyone lost their fucking minds?_  "You're serious."

"As serious as I was about having the threesome."

"Jeez, Rin," Kisumi chimes in. "Have a little faith. We're both being serious. I don't mind sharing you. I...I really don't want you guys to break up."

Rin tosses his hands in the air in surrender. "Fine. _Fine._ Let's do it. Bring it on. Whatever. But then we won't be able to make it work and you guys will have a falling out and break up the band and I'll- I'll be the new fucking Yoko Ono! That's great." He's on the verge of nervous laughter.

"Nah," Kisumi says, pecking Rin's cheek. "We can make it work."

"So let me get this straight. Sousuke. I need you to look at me right now."

Sousuke opens his eyes, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Yeah."

Rin forces himself to breathe. "You're...my boyfriend. I need to hear you say it."

"Yes," Sousuke says, nodding. "I'm your boyfriend. Number one, I might add." Rin feels dizzy, some of his tension melting at finally getting confirmation.

"Okay. And Kisumi. You're...?"

"Just a guy who wants to try dating you," Kisumi says. "If you want to. Since your _boyfriend_ doesn't mind."

"If you hurt him I'll kick your ass," Sousuke replies.

Kisumi gasps, hand going to his chest. "As _if_ I would do that. You're the one who _just said_ you're not into romantic stuff. Well, I'm the _king_ of romance _-_ "

"He still hasn't said yes to you," Sousuke scoffs.

"Yes." Rin hugs his knees to his chest, hiding his face behind them, trying to steady his breathing. "I've gone temporarily insane and I'm saying yes."

Kisumi hovers over him. "Rin, are you...crying?"

"No," Rin sobs. "That coffee was really terrible, okay?"

"Oh my freaking god, you're so cute." And then Kisumi's arms wrap around him, stroking his back while he tries to compose himself.

"I wasn't...I wasn't ready for this," he says once he can trust himself to speak without his voice breaking. "Ugh. What time is it?" _What if I change my mind once I've had some sleep? I'm probably delusional right now._

"After four," Sousuke answers, getting off the bed. He pulls a pair of pajama pants from his dresser and puts them on before sitting back down on the bed. "Rin?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch. You two can have the bed. Don't-" He swallows, eyes darting around the room before catching Rin's again. Rin can tell how hard it is for Sousuke to talk about his feelings. "Don't think it means I like you any less." He kisses Rin once more before leaving, not bothering to close the door behind him.

"He needs processing time," Kisumi says, patting Rin's back. "He's fine."

Rin gulps. "I think I need some processing time, too."

Kisumi immediately takes his hands off. "Do you want me to leave?" He doesn't sound offended in the least, which Rin's grateful for.

"Nah. He's got a tv in here...maybe I'll see if there's anything good on." In truth, he'd really like to go to sleep and stop thinking for a couple of hours. But he can't leave Kisumi alone like that. Not when Kisumi's the one nervous about tomorrow.

"Sounds good," Kisumi says, getting under the blankets, on the side up against the wall. He starts tracing a pattern on Rin's back with his fingertips, pressure growing fainter and fainter, and by the time Rin's settled on an old action movie to watch, he's fast asleep.

_So much for anxiety,_ Rin chuckles, watching the light from the tv wash over Kisumi's face. How is it possible for a guy to have eyelashes like that? Crazy. _This whole thing is crazy._ What's craziest, in Rin's opinion, is how natural it feels. He's already got space in his heart for both Sousuke and Kisumi, alongside all the other people in his life that he cares deeply for.

He muses about it until the movie ends, heart fluttering whenever Kisumi shifts or makes a sound. As the credits roll, he wonders if Sousuke's had enough processing time yet. _Fuck it._ He turns off the tv, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible. Kisumi murmurs something in his sleep, clutching a handful of the comforter, but doesn't wake up.

Rin's underwear are still on the living room floor, and he doesn't particularly want to go out there naked. He's only going to get a glass of water. That's all. So he filches a pair of pajama bottoms from the drawer he'd seen Sousuke take his out of earlier, pulling them on and heading into the hall. He pulls his hair into a ponytail as he creeps to the living room entrance, using a hair tie from his wrist to secure it. Somehow, having his hair back helps him think clearer.

Sousuke's stretched out on the couch with the tv on, using Rin's balled up shirt as a pillow. It takes a moment of squinting for Rin to tell that his eyes are open. "Looks like we had the same idea," he says, making Sousuke jump. "Just finished this really crappy racing movie."

"Jesus Christ," Sousuke swears, sitting up. "You scared the shit out of me."

Rin smirks, heading into the kitchen and flicking on the light. The yellow rose still sits there in its cup. And upon further inspection, it still smells as sweet. "Getting a drink," he calls, softly so it won't carry to Sousuke's room and wake Kisumi up. "Want anything?"

"There's Coke in the fridge. Bring me one."

Rin hasn't had cola in a long time, normally it's not his favourite thing, but tonight it sounds perfect. He retrieves two cans and heads back into the living room, tossing one to Sousuke, who catches it with a wince. "Shoulder bugging you?"

"A bit," Sousuke admits, popping his can open and taking a sip.

"On the floor," Rin commands, sliding behind Sousuke on the couch. He puts his Coke on the table and cracks his knuckles as Sousuke lowers himself to the floor.

"Gonna have to clean your come stain up tomorrow," Sousuke mutters, as Rin starts massaging his shoulder with the technique he learned in college for sports injuries. Sure, this isn't a sports injury, but he should be able to help ease the stiffness.

"I'll do it. Sorry about that."

"Don't be," Sousuke says, leaning back into him.

Rin's quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I've been meaning to ask. What's this tattoo?" It's on the opposite shoulder from his injury.

"It's a betta fish," Sousuke replies. "They represent strength and power and a bunch of other shit I can't remember. I think they're cool."

"They are. It's an awesome tattoo. I saw Kisumi has some on his forearms. What does the _fff_ stand for?"

"Fortississimo. In music terms, _extremely loud_."

Rin chuckles, digging his fingertips into the knot in Sousuke's shoulder, impressed at how he's handling the pain. "Suits him perfectly."

"Yeah. The stars having something to do with Hayato."

"His brother, right?"

"Yeah. They're really close."

"I love how you guys are close, too. How you share everything. Gotta admit, I was kinda surprised that those clothes he borrowed belonged to you." The sweater with the stars on it still lies crumpled on the floor beside the couch.

"Tch. I would never wear bright red pants, are you kidding?" He takes another sip of his Coke. "My step mom keeps sending me clothes. I have no fucking clue why. All this high end, trendy shit I hate."

"It looks good on Kisumi. So I'm glad she sent them."

"Mm, yeah. He can pull off some crazy stuff."

Rin sighs, giving Sousuke's shoulder a light pat to indicate that he's done with the massage. "He really can...are you _sure_ you're okay with...this?"

Sousuke takes Rin's hand and pulls him down to sit beside him on the floor. "I can understand why you'd have trouble with this concept; it's not in your nature. But I'm truly okay with whatever you want." He fixes his eyes on the weather girl on the tv screen. _Six o'clock news already? Jesus..._ "Takes some of the pressure off me."

Finally, Rin understands. "I know you don't think you're enough, Sousuke. But that's not true. You're more than enough. And the fact that you're willing to let your boyfriend go on dates with other people is just...I honestly think it's ridiculously selfless."

"Not other _people,"_ Sousuke says, deflecting the compliment. "Just Kisumi."

"Yeah," Rin sighs happily, leaning into Sousuke's side. Sousuke wraps his arm around Rin and pulls him close. He smells like sweat and sports deodorant, and Rin loves it. "Just Kisumi."

Sousuke smiles and gives Rin's ponytail a gentle tug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to hazuki-rei for the fabs sexistential crisis pun. I tip my hat to you, sir.
> 
>  
> 
> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com)


	31. Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...Is this crazy?"
> 
> "Probably," Kisumi shrugs, grinning. "But it depends what you're talking about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart time! You guys really are spoiling me, I swear. Here's an adorable [Haru and Maguro-hime](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/post/116507468246/shamoolala-a-little-drawing-for-rosaveritass) courtesy of [Shamoolala](http://shamoolala.tumblr.com), some [hot double cherry pie (KisuRin)](http://holyshitbatman.tumblr.com/post/116624465580/i-think-i-have-a-crush-on-kisumi-i-got-so) from holyshitbatman *discreetly fans self*, aaaannnddd
> 
> [this freaking amazing doujin of the MakoHaru cigarette scene](http://mlim8.tumblr.com/post/116676816733/bonus-crack-verision-poor-maguro-d-from) from mlim8!!
> 
> You can blame my dear friend brainindacloudz for the Hayato in this chapter, because I asked her what she thought he'd look like as a sixteen-year-old and she responded with [this picture](http://brainindacloudz.tumblr.com/post/115139268431/i-got-the-sails-you-get-the-drinks-renyato-like) that is slowly consuming my entire soul. 
> 
> Gyah I apologize for once again being slow to respond to comments, guys! I'm working on it, I promise. Btw, I got [twitter](https://twitter.com/rosa_veritas)... *sweats* it's mostly tmi and tweets expressing my desire for mozzarella sticks at 4 am. Or you can contact me on [tumblr](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com). I'm usually a bit faster at responding to messages on those platforms. Key word: _usually._

Rin wakes up on the couch the next morning, back and knees and head aching. He lies in the suspended state between sleep and wakefulness for as long as possible, enjoying the sensation of having no responsibility and nothing to tether him down. _Sousuke's scent. Kisumi's touch..._ He feels nothing but bliss, so powerful that there's no room for a single heartbeat of regret about last night's events.As he slowly slips back into reality, beaming like an idiot and blinking the sleep from his eyes, he catches the sound of something sizzling from around the corner.

He cautiously sits up, twisting his back to stretch out his stiff spine. Sleeping on the couch was a bad idea. _Wait._ How had he even gotten here? Must've been Sousuke. But then where had Sousuke slept? He slinks into the kitchen for a glass of water, trying not to feel too guilty about it. Sousuke stands over the stove with ear buds in, stirring eggs in a frying pan. The stove clock reads 11:23. Rin peers into the pan; there are mushrooms and peppers mixed in with the eggs. His stomach growls. "So you cook."

"Yeah." Sousuke pulls one earbud out. "Better than most."

"You know Haru's a chef, right? I'm used to some pretty fine dining."

Sousuke snorts. "High maintenance." He holds up the fork he was stirring with. Rin leans in to taste it, closely observing Sousuke's face. A smile pricks at the edges of his stern frown, eyes glimmering playfully under the hard crease of his brow.

"Eh, I can cover up the taste with hot sauce," Rin teases, chewing thoughtfully.

Sousuke's frown finally breaks, turning into a dazzling smile that threatens to send Rin to the hospital with heart palpitations. "Who said you could have more than that? This is for me and Kisumi. We need protein from doing all the damn work last night."

Rin almost chokes on his mouthful. "Fine, I'll get my own food. Some fucking bacon. Maybe a nice _cinnamon_ roll."

Sousuke wrinkles his nose in disgust. "How dare you say that word in my presence."

"Haru would probably make cinnamon rolls," Rin continues, grinning. "I should call him and see if Makoto would let me join them for-"

Sousuke pulls him into a kiss before he can finish, arm circling around his waist. It's firm and thorough, enough tongue to get Rin's heart racing. "Definitely needs hot sauce," Sousuke mutters, letting him go. Rin blushes, wondering if he'll get that same reaction every time he mentions Haru.

"At least let me brush my teeth first. God, feels like a cat shit in my mouth."

Sousuke drops the fork, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "That image is gonna haunt me. Can't believe I just kissed you."

"Okay, geez, I'm-" a door bangs open down the hall, indicating Kisumi's woken up. Heavy footsteps, then a moment later the sound of another door slamming. "What the hell is he-" Loud retching.

"He better not be puking in my sink again," Sousuke grumbles, unperturbed.  

Rin bites his lip, a touch queasy at the sound. He sighs. "I'm on it."

Sousuke nods his approval, not seeming to care much either way. Rin fills a glass from the tap and carries it to the bathroom, knocking before pushing the door open.

Kisumi's crouching before the toilet, elbows resting on either side of the seat, cradling his head in his hands. "I'm never drinking again," he says weakly. He's naked except for his Pokemon boxers, a sick sheen of sweat glistening on his back.

"He says that every time," Sousuke calls from the kitchen. Kisumi opens his mouth to reply but it comes out as a gag. Rin rubs his back until he's done, then presents him with the glass of water.

"Drink it."

"Thanks," Kisumi gasps, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm before taking it. He's pale, high colour on his cheeks. Rin presses his hand to Kisumi's forehead. Hot.

"You okay?"

Kisumi gulps the water down so fast Rin fears he'll bring it all up again. "Just hung over. Didn't sleep enough. Bad coffee, maybe?" Then he smiles, though it's a touch shaky. "Sorry you had to see that! Geez, what a rotten date."

"Pfft, I've seen way worse. I'm a cop. Keeping an eye on teens in the drunk tank on Friday nights can get pretty gritty."

"But you're not supposed to think _those_ people are attractive," Kisumi jokes, flushing the toilet as he gets to his feet.

Even with sweaty hair stuck to his forehead and a sick pallor to his complexion, Rin's stunned by how cheerful his smile his- how it still reaches his eyes.  "It'll take more than that to make me think you're unattractive."

Kisumi actually _glows,_ though that's probably a side effect of being ill _._ "You're so sweet." He opens the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, rummaging around until he finds a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush.

"That Sousuke's?" Rin blinks, watching Kisumi squeeze toothpaste onto it.

"S' mine," Kisumi answers, shoving it into his mouth. "Stay here a lot so it made sense to have my own." And that's adorable. The thought of Kisumi and Sousuke being such close friends that Kisumi spends half his nights there, watching movies together, talking. Sharing clothes. Sharing _everything._

"You guys are so...cute."

"Shut up," comes Sousuke's voice over the sizzle of bacon down the hall. "Kisumi needs to get his own place."

Kisumi spits out his mouthful of toothpaste. "Thinking about it," he says, in a tone that means he's definitely not.

Sousuke doesn't miss it. "How 'bout you start paying rent here?"

"What's the point? That's what I love about mom and dad's. Free, and there's gonna be no hassle when we, um. Tour." His smile goes slack for a moment and he blinks vacantly into the mirror before turning on the faucet to rinse out his mouth.

Rin feels a wave of apprehension of his own. "You're going to do great tonight." And then go on tour. Right.

"Mm, yeah, that's not...not really the issue," Kisumi says airily, splashing his face with water. "We've never screwed up before, so I'm sure we'll be fine." He lowers his voice enough that Sousuke can't hear him. "It's...it's weird, making this a real career. It used to just be something for fun, and now there's pressure and all the moving around..."

Rin sets his hand lightly on Kisumi's arm. "It's okay to change your mind about shit, y'know. I did. I used to think I was gonna become an Olympian, and I could've if I wanted to."

Kisumi stares at him, eyes wide in surprise, water droplets dripping from his bangs. Rin counts all the freckles on his nose, clearly visible in this light. Had he ever really _looked_  closely at Kisumi before?

"...Is this crazy?"

"Probably," Kisumi shrugs, grinning. "But it depends what you're talking about."

Rin leans against the bathroom counter, steadying himself. "I mean...us, starting something. We barely know each other. And it's gonna be long distance. And then there's Sousuke...is it crazy?"

"Kind of," Kisumi admits, his smile turned disarmingly shy. "That's what I like about it. I'm a big fan of jumping into things. And I really," he leans in closer, hand on Rin's hip, voice dropping to a low whisper, " _really_ like not knowing where this is going."

Kisumi tastes like strong, tart toothpaste, lips cold from rinsing out his mouth. It leaves a faint tingle on Rin's tongue when they part. _Don't overthink things,_ Rin tells himself, trying but failing to keep the heat out of his cheeks. _Just let it happen. Even if it's insane. That's the only thing you're fucking good at, after all._

"If you guys don't get out here I'm going to eat your damn food for you," Sousuke growls. "You wanted bacon and I made you bacon, so come here and appreciate it."

Rin smirks, poking his head around the door frame to holler back at him. "It smells amazing!" He turns to Kisumi. "Coming?"

But Kisumi's gone pale again, one hand on his belly. He shakes his head, pressing the back of his wrist over his mouth. "You go eat," he manages. "I'm not hungry."

Rin may feel sorry for him, but gnawing hunger easily outweighs any obligation to watch Kisumi heave up what remains of his stomach contents. Rin makes the executive decision to leave Kisumi to his own devices, closing the door in order to give him some privacy. Rin traces his fingers along the wall as he walks toward the kitchen, the cool paint beneath his fingertips a stark contrast to the feverish heat of Kisumi's forehead a few minutes ago. _Just a hangover. I'm sure that's all it is._

 

 

 

Saturday evening, and Shimokitazawa is bursting with youthful energy, a buzz of excited anticipation lingering heavy in the air. People are already dressed up for the evening, heading into clubs and restaurants, finishing up their shopping; couples are arm-in-arm on dates, groups of women walking together, pausing to take selfies with their friends.

All in all, it's not too stifling, not with the open street and Makoto by his side. Haru's actually having a pleasant time. Rin catches Haru's eye on the corner, smirking and waving them over. Haru squeezes Makoto's hand tighter, making sure not to lose touch in the throng of people milling along the street. "Geez, Mako," Rin snorts when they reach him. "Ready for your photoshoot?"

Makoto tilts his head, confused. "...Yes? What?"

"You look like you belong on the cover of a trashy romance novel, Fabio."

Makoto smiles and smoothes his hand over the front of his shirt, a loose white blouse-like thing made of light material. It has a wide neck that Makoto's left unbuttoned, and it reminds Haru a bit of a pirate, so he can see what Rin means. "It gets really hot on stage with all those lights on you," Makoto's explaining. "So I-"

Haru turns and clings to him dramatically, lifting one foot up behind him as if he's in the midst of a passionate kiss, batting his eyes in the most sultry way possible. "I'll be the mermaid that turns into a human," he says, "and Makoto can be the sexy pirate that discovers me and teaches me how to use my new anatomy."

"Oh my god Haru," Rin cackles, doubled over with laughter. "That's it, it'll sell millions! A romance for the ages!"

"That sounds _awful,_ " Makoto giggles. "Who would ever read that?"

Rin shakes his head, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "With Haru's exact face on the cover, all intense like that. We can dangle mackerel in front of him to get him to do it."

Makoto leans in close to Haru's ear. "I would definitely teach you everything I knew," he whispers delightedly. Haru smiles, briefly wondering what that would be like.

"You guys are into some kinky shit," Rin whistles. "Mermaid role-play? Really?"

Haru doesn't know how to respond, the cat ears popping into his head. _Cats and mermaids are nothing alike. What would Maguro look like with a fish tail?_ He chokes down his laughter, forcing a blank expression onto his face.

Makoto wraps his arm around Haru's back, smiling benevolently. "How did things go with Sousuke last night?"

Rin's face blazes red and he looks away, tucking hair behind his ear. He couldn't have given last night's activities away any better with a neon sign.

Makoto's smile sprawls even broader, a smug edge to it. "We can try discussing kinks again once you've been dating _him_ a while."

"Uh, yeah," Rin coughs nonchalantly into his fist, avoiding eye contact. No sarcastic comeback? No fiery grin and teasing jibe? _Interesting._ As mad as Haru still is at Yamazaki (and Shigino, to boot) he's intrigued by the reaction the guy evokes. Rin's clearly going down fast, and while it puts Haru on edge, concerned for his friend's happiness, it makes him happy to see Rin having a good time. "I might actually ask for some advice on that later. If Haru doesn't mind."

"I don't," Haru shrugs. "But I don't want to be there."

"Where is Sousuke, anyway?" Makoto asks, breaking the mild tension. "And Kisu should be here, too..."

Rin points down the street casually with his thumb. Kisumi's hunched over a garbage can about half a block down, bright hair easily recognizable, Sousuke watching him from a few feet away with his arms crossed and an unenthused expression.

Makoto's brows furrow, countenance instantly worried. "Is he okay?"

Rin shrugs. "Dunno. This is like the fifth time today."

"Ah, shit. He's stressed out. He used to get like this before big basketball games."

Rin rubs the back of his neck, tugging at his ponytail, cheeks tinged pink. "Really? Seems like he's more worried about doing well than he is about failing...it's weird."

"Pressure," Haru mumbles. "It ruins some people."

"Yeah," Rin says. "It kinda reminded me of you when you got all stressed out in high school and threw that race. It's not like you didn't know you'd get scouted."

Haru turns to bury his face in Makoto's arm, tightening his grip. This doesn't erase what Kisumi did to Rin, but it doesn't mean Haru can't empathize. 

"I'm not worried," Makoto says, patting Haru's back.

"Geez, Haru, you're acting like Nagisa today," Rin laughs. "Didn't know you could be this...cute. It's creeping me out. But it's kinda...amazing, seeing you two like this."

Makoto smiles brightly, and for a moment it's like the years melt off of them all, leaving nothing but a wisp of pure, youthful ignorance. "You're so cheesy."

"Mako, Haru, you made it," Kisumi calls, rushing up to them with cell-phone in hand. _Haru? Tch._ He has far too much energy for someone who was just hurling his guts out into a public trash can. Haru finds it innately suspicious, fingers curling possessively into the fabric of Makoto's shirt. He doesn't bother concealing his glare, casting in on both Kisumi and Sousuke. Kisumi doesn't seem to notice, slinging his arm over Rin's shoulders. Haru wills Rin to, if not break his fingers outright, at least push him away. But he doesn't.  "Hayato says the cab dropped him off at the Lawson. I can't wait for you to meet him, Rin!"

"Such a brother complex. Get ready to be chilled to your very core," Sousuke says. His eyes sweep up Haru's length before settling on his face. He tilts his chin slightly in acknowledgment, hands in his pockets. "Nanase."

Haru narrows his eyes, bristling. _Asshole. Don't look at me like you're sizing me up. And apparently deciding I'm not a threat._ "Did you apologize to Rin properly?"

Sousuke raises an eyebrow, frowning deeply. Rin flushes, and even Kisumi looks stunned, mouth pursed in surprise. "Haru," Rin starts.

"No. I'm serious. Did he apologize for what he did to you? And _you,"_ Haru sneers, turning to Kisumi. He grunts his displeasure, unable to conjure up the words he needs. He normally avoids conflict like the plague, but- "if Rin's not going to defend himself, I will." His chest tightens and cuts his breathing off, and if it weren't for Makoto's arm around him to anchor him, he's not sure what would happen.

Sousuke stares for a moment, brows furrowed, then blinks slowly, face relaxing into a smile. "Yeah, I apologized. A lot."

"And I forgave him," Rin says, gasping as Kisumi propels him bodily toward Sousuke. Sousuke instantly steps forward to catch him, but Rin manages to balance himself at the last moment, hopping on one foot, arms flung out hastily to either side. "Kisumi, you _asshole!”_

The insult, and Rin's tone along with it, drift right by Kisumi on the breeze. "Sorry, sorry," he laughs, eyes cat-like, devious. "I thought you wanted to kiss your boyfriend."

Rin hesitates and glances away, reaching up to toy at his hair, but Sousuke catches his wrist with strong fingers and tugs him into a long, lewd kiss. There's the gentle slurp of tongue on tongue, Rin's breathy sigh; Kisumi claps and whistles; people passing by do not-so-subtle double-takes.  After what has to be at least a full minute, Rin pulls away, shaky as a newborn fawn, and Sousuke's smile is actually more joyful than it is smug. Haru concedes privately that it's a good look on him. It transforms his whole face, and for the first time Haru can kind of see what Rin's attracted to.

Rin turns to Kisumi, eyes wide and glossy. Kisumi's biting his lower lip, exuding all the glee of a child who's been told he's getting a puppy. The energy of the crowd around them thrums, growing, blossoming like a flower in the heat of summer, and for a moment, Haru almost thinks-

"Impressive," Makoto says to Rin, smile broad yet (almost imperceptibly) tight. "I can't believe someone finally got Sousuke into a committed relationship." Haru stiffens, a brief prickle of panic searing through him. Is that _jealousy_ around the corners of Makoto's eyes? But he narrows them slightly, tilting his head to the side, tone taking on the sweetness of an overripe pomegranate. "Kisumi, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Um, no thanks," Kisumi replies, waving his phone. "Hayato's waiting! How do we get to the Lawson, Sou?" He concentrates his attention on Sousuke, pointedly avoiding Makoto's gaze, and Haru wonders what the fuck is going on. Rin still seems out of commission, bright red with unfocused eyes. Something's way off. Even Haru can tell that much, and he reads people about as well as he can read Portuguese.

Sousuke opens his mouth, then closes it, glancing up and down the street, gears clearly whirring in his head. "That way," he finally grunts, pointing from the direction Haru'd just come with Makoto. "I...think."

Kisumi grinds the heel of his palm into his forehead, and Haru feels Makoto's giggle tremor through him more than he can hear it. "Oh, god," Makoto says, pointing in the opposite direction. "It's a block down that way."

"You can literally _see_ the sign," Haru adds, pleased that he's got something to make fun of Sousuke for, no matter how juvenile and petty it is. It's true, though. The huge blue letters are clearly visible down the street, even at the sharp angle.

Sousuke shrugs. "I don't shop there."

"We went there last week," Makoto laughs, in an act of outright betrayal that Haru finds particularly endearing.

Kisumi treats Rin like his personal leaning post, resting on his shoulder. "This guy couldn't make his way out of a paper bag with a map and a flashlight.  I kid you not, our first year in uni he lost like fifteen pounds because he could never find the cafeteria."

"Whatever," Sousuke says, stalking off. "I learned to cook for myself."

 As Makoto pulls Haru toward the convenience store, he thinks he hears Rin murmur something, but all he catches is the word "distraction." When he turns, Rin and Kisumi are standing three feet apart, not even looking at each other.

 

 

 

  

 

Shigino Hayato turns out to be a blessing in disguise. He's different from his brother in exactly the right ways; reserved, soft-spoken, and best of all, he keeps his hands to himself. At least with anyone who isn't Kisumi, whom he clings to like a long-lost lover until they get to the venue and he disappears back stage with Makoto and Sousuke.

Haru takes a seat next to Rin in their VIP booth, Hayato across from them. They're early, of course, so the sizable venue is still empty, but the instruments have already been placed on stage where they'll be needed. There are lights rigged up on either side of the stage as well as overhead, big speakers facing out toward the floor, and there's a big white screen at the back, so Haru assumes there'll be some kind of graphic visuals up there later. Haru had asked what exactly would be happening, but Makoto only shook his head gently and said it'd be better as a surprise.

With nothing of interest to look at, Haru switches his attention to Hayato, who's sitting ramrod straight, gaze centered on the stage. His hair is a darker strawberry colour than Kisumi's and has a far tighter natural curl. Haru's never seen hair like it before, not in real life, and he stares unabashedly, trying to commit it to memory for drawing purposes.

"Jesus, Haru," Rin says, prodding him in the ribs with an elbow. "Don't be such a creep. So, Hayato. Kisumi told me you're in the drama club at school. How's that?" Damn him for being so good with teenagers. Haru didn't like them even when he _was_ one, but Rin can chat with them like he goes to their freaking school. Luckily, Hayato will be the only one here tonight, since the show is technically restricted to an adult-only audience.

Hayato finally looks at them, just a nervous dart of his eyes before he lets them drop down to his hands, primly folded in his lap. "Um, yeah. Yes. It's good. We're doing a play next month."

"Cool! What play? I don't really go to plays but maybe I've heard of it."

" _The Love Suicides at Sonezaki,"_ Hayato replies, encouraged by Rin's enthusiasm.

Rin pounds his fist on the table, leaning closer. "I read that one in high school! What part do you have?"

"Tokubei."

"Are you _serious?"_

Haru vaguely remembers reading the play in third year, too. Makoto had been far more into it than he had. It had something to do with a man falling in love with a prostitute and then killing himself so he could be with her forever or something like that. "Isn't Tokubei the lead role?"

Hayato's lips curl into a soft smile and for a moment he resembles Kisumi a lot more strongly. "Yeah!"

Haru's legitimately surprised. "Wow. I wouldn't have guessed that."

"Most people wouldn't have," Hayato says, finally meeting Haru's eyes. "Because I'm kind of shy...but, but acting's different!"

"Geez," Rin grins, slumping back in the seat. "So both Shiginos have a flair for performing, huh? Your poor parents."

"Dad teaches Shakespearean drama at Toudai," Hayato answers, relaxing his posture. "And mom's a professional cellist, but she mostly only does pottery now. She hardly does any concerts anymore."

Rin's totally absorbed in the conversation, drinking in every word like water. If he can fake being this interested in kids' lives, no wonder he's always getting praised at work. Haru puts his focus back on the stage, wondering what Makoto's doing at this moment. He checks his phone; half an hour until the show. Clearly the doors have opened, because people are now flooding in. A lot of them have press badges and cameras with them.  

"...-cause onii-chan played too, until he was my age and asked for a drum set."

"You're telling me _Kisumi_ can play the cello?"

"Mhm. He's really good."

Rin rests his elbow on the table, chin on his hand, expression hazy as he looks toward the stage. "Huh. That's...surprisingly classy. Y'know. For him."

Hayato giggles, a short, sweet sound, delicate, like him. "He wore a suit to my graduation from middle school last year. He let me cut his hair and everything."

"I can't even imagine him in a suit."

"I have a picture! I'll find it."

Before Hayato can pull his cell out of his pocket, the lights dim. The crowd simmers into the low murmur of whispered talk and rustling jackets as people settle into their seats. Rin sits right at the edge of his and Haru finds himself doing the same, as though the few extra inches will offer him clearer visibility than his front row seating already affords.

An official from the record label makes a speech about the debut of their new band. Cameras flash. People scream and clap as she draws on longer than expected, demanding the start of the real show. After what seems an eternity, the official moves to the side of the stage with a flourish of her hand. "...-on behalf of Mantis Entertainment, take great pleasure in unveiling _Hidemind!"_

Haru absorbs none of it, anticipation roiling in his belly, fists clenched. He can feel Rin beside him, a mass of nerves, coiled tight. Thick silence stifles the crowd. The seconds tick by.

"Are things supposed to take this long?" Rin hisses under his breath. "Or am I just anxious because it's them?"

"They usually come out fast," Hayato answers, voice timid and unsure.

Haru notices a figure in black creep up beside the official, still standing at the edge of the stage, to whisper something in her ear. She frowns.

Haru's not an expert on theatrical performances of any kind, not like Hayato, who has fallen into a terse silence, but even he can tell that's not a good sign.

" _Kisumi_ ," Rin breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Oops?


	32. Know Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto paces anxiously in front of the door leading out to the stage, pausing every few seconds to glance down the corridor in the direction of the washroom. "We should've been out there ten minutes ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you guys, I'm sorry this took so long to finish! But here it is, and there's also a bunch of new fanart to check out [here](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/tagged/awesomefanart). 
> 
> I will fix this note and leave proper credit for each artist later but I'm in a rush atm, please forgive me XD

Kisumi hunches over the sink in the dingy bathroom, splashing his face with cool water before studying his reflection. Pale, drawn skin, stringy hair… just like a rockstar. The kind that does an awful lot of cocaine.

He wonders vaguely if cocaine would make this job any easier... No, no. He shakes his head sternly at himself, regretting it as it induces another surge of nausea. He grips the edge of the sink with shaking hands, watching the running water swirl down the drain and trying to keep himself from heaving, though nothing would even come up if he failed.

When he looks back into the mirror, he sees a sweaty face and dark, lifeless eyes. "You're useless," he whispers, pressing a fist gently to the glass, right at his reflection's throat.

Hayato's here, and Rin. This is the night that makes or breaks everything. _Makoto and Sousuke are waiting for you. Everyone's waiting, and here you are..._ "Such a fuck up."

He weighs the pros and cons of simply locking himself in the bathroom and pretending he's too sick to go onstage. How bad could the consequences of a contract breach be, anyway? How long would it take Sousuke and Makoto to forgive him?

Sousuke...

He realizes Sousuke's already forgiven him. For much greater grievances than this. He always will.

Kisumi cups water in his hands and dampens his hair, combing his fingers through it to make it look a bit less greasy. Occupying himself with his appearance helps a little; by the time he figures he somewhat resembles a respectable human being, he's feeling well enough to unlock the door and turn the knob.

He adopts a confident stride as he exits, determined never to look back.

_I can do this._

  
  
  
  


Makoto paces anxiously in front of the door leading out to the stage, pausing every few seconds to glance down the corridor in the direction of the washroom. "We should've been out there ten minutes ago." His sigh somehow conveys the long-suffering patience of a mother of six at the supermarket.

Sousuke pulls away from the wall he's leaning on and attempts to roll some of the stiffness out of his shoulder, feeling the cartilage pop. "Big deal. They'll wait. Rock stars aren't known for being punctual."

"We aren't stars, Sou." He pauses, peering down the hall. "Think he's okay?"

"Probably. Better now than on stage, anyway."

They hear Kisumi coming before they can see him; he's sweet-talking their stage manager, arm around her shoulders, acting like his same flirtatious self, if a couple shades paler than usual. "-fashionably late," he's telling her. "It's always good to keep them waiting. Builds up the anticipation… " He runs his index finger down her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear for her. A classic move, but one which doesn't seem to impress her at all.

"Just get out there," she snaps, adjusting her headset.

"Kisumi? You okay?" Makoto's the only one who seems worried, true to his nature. But it's warranted; Kisumi's now staring wide-eyed at the stage door, fidgeting with the zipper on his grey leather jacket.

He blinks, slow and long, scratching at his collar. "I..."

Sousuke claps him on the shoulder, gripping him hard and pulling him off to the side, motioning Makoto to stay. He leans in close to Kisumi's ear, attempting to keep the conversation somewhat private, though he suspects Makoto's already pieced most of it together. " You want Rin to see you play, right? Just forget everything else. Find him as soon as we get on stage and play for him. You're overthinking this whole thing. Jesus, take a couple of deep breaths."

Kisumi fixes his eyes on the floor for a moment, unfocussed and glazed. Just as Sousuke's considering stepping aside in case he pukes again, he snaps his head up, pupils sharpening, taking a measured breath through his nose. "For Rin. Yeah, he's never been able to see one of our shows, it's all new for him." Sousuke nearly smirks at the sudden excitement gaining speed in Kisumi's voice. "I forgot to ask him if he likes guitar players or drummers bet-"

"Shhh!" Sousuke glances pointedly in Makoto's direction, then leans in close. "Not too loud. Really don't wanna have to explain this yet. Now let's go get Rin all riled up."

Kisumi nods and heads for the stage door, slipping through it, a spring of enthusiasm in his step.

Makoto starts to follow, then turns to Sousuke. "What did you say to him?"

Sousuke shrugs. "I can be motivational when I want to."

Makoto shakes his head in mildly amused disbelief, breathing deeply before following Kisumi through the door. "Welcome to the rest of our lives," Sousuke hears him mutter.

  
  
  
  


 

 

Haru's transfixed by the sight of Hayato biting his nails. Maybe it's because of stress, worry about Makoto and, by extension, his bandmates (even if Haru doesn't like them.) But watching Hayato's thin lips working around his spidery, slim fingertips is far more enchanting than listen to the rustling of the crowd around him.

"What do you think happened?" Rin asks nervously, jostling Haru with his elbow. Haru almost snaps at him, but keeps himself in check because he knows he's just tense. The whole stadium is tense; a sense of hushed anxiety has descended over the audience, tightening around them like cellophane.

The stage lights suddenly blare, blindingly bright. Haru squints, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and the lights dim a little, revealing all the members of Hidemind already on stage. Kisumi twirls a drum stick between his fingers impatiently, sitting on a stool behind the drumset, grinning out at the audience through slanted eyes. Sousuke's focused on fiddling with his guitar strap, expression surly, not sparing a single look for the crowd. And Makoto. Makoto smiles at Haru, clutching the microphone in front of him with both hands even though it's still supported by the stand. Haru's seated close enough to see that Makoto's knuckles are white; he's nervous, they all are, but they're here at last, and the crowd's collective sigh of relief is outweighed only by Rin's.

"He looks fine," Haru whispers, and Rin gives his arm a squeeze in return. He opens his mouth to make what Haru's sure is some kind of sassy reply, but before he can, the music starts. With only a quick glance at each other beforehand for assessment, Kisumi and Sousuke simultaneously pick up a beat. Sousuke has the demeanor of a statue; his bare arms flexing as he plays are the only part of him that moves, his face a dark storm. Kisumi's vibrant, bouncing in his seat, head bobbing. Polar opposites when it comes to stage presence.

Makoto stares at his shoes, quiet, tense, tolerating the spotlight on him because he has to in order to what he came here for. Just like he always was, waiting on his mark at the end of the pool, ready to jump the moment his teammate's fingertips brushed the wall.

Then he leaps, voice as powerful and dynamic as his swimming, cutting through the air like the prow of a ship through water.

 

_It makes me feel like you're standing there_   
_Even if what we went through is nothing_   
_Can we rewind, it is something._

 

And the words are in English, which Haru loathes. He hates the confines of language, the fact that he can feel the emotion saturating the words but can't understand what they mean.

 

_I'll see you tonight_   
_Watching past many scenes_   
_It's still living in my mind_   
_The feel of you_

 

Beside him, Rin's winding tight like a wristwatch, eyes wide, glittering. Haru would give every single one of his expensive swimsuits away for free if he could only understand the lyrics, if he could only feel what Rin's feeling. It must be something incredible, and Haru's determined to squeeze a private encore performance out of Makoto tonight, with full Japanese translation.

 

_With you on my side_   
_Light my cigarette, inhale_   
_It's still living in my mind_   
_The feel of you_

 

Makoto's gaze connects with Haru's, his eyes burning, searing Haru's bones. Time stops. Lights fade. It's only them, only Makoto. Baring himself. Haru's shocked, knocked breathless by the force of Makoto's spirit. The raw emotion in Makoto's voice, the yearning, the sense of loss and anger and pain...without comprehending a single word, Haru's brought nearly to tears.  
  


_Will you never ever know?_   
_Take your words, just tell me_   
_If you change your mind_   
_And you..._   
_Just call my NAME!_

 

Haru doesn't join in the explosion of applause at the end of the song, but Rin and Hayato do, clutching each other comically while Rin whistles and yells, drowning out Hayato's subdued clapping.

"Thank you," Makoto says into the microphone, smiling at the crowd. "We're really amazed how many of you turned up tonight and all the support you've given us. We never could have made it to this moment without our fans!" He has to pause to allow the renewed cheering to subside. He steps aside, gesturing to the huge screen at the back of the stage. "Since you guys have been here since the beginning, we decided it'd be fun to share our experiences with you. Ready to see the dumbest...sorry, the most magnificent slideshow ever put together?"

Kisumi cheers the loudest this time, face lit up with laughter. Sousuke still appears unimpressed, which Haru understands for once. A slideshow seems rather...underwhelming. But as the screen lights up, the next song starting (a slower one this time, in Japanese) Haru finds himself leaning forward, eyes glued to the screen.

It's like finally being able to catch up on the past decade of memories he missed. Or at least observe them from the sidelines, finally getting a glimpse of what Makoto's been doing. How he's really been. Each image burns itself into his memory, filling him, 'til his heart swells up and he feels on the verge of bursting.

There are pictures of the three of them in their university rehearsal space, Makoto wearing a shy smile. Their first show, Makoto on stage, eyes squeezed shut. He's there with Kisumi draped over his shoulder, both of them wearing ridiculous heart-shaped sunglasses, obviously in some cheap convenience store. It makes Haru's chest ache, wishing he'd been there for all these moments, but also wondering what kind of memories they'll be able to make together in the future.

And then there are the snapshots allowing a glimpse into Makoto and Sousuke's relationship. Haru's absolutely entranced, watching Makoto transform from the quiet observer in the background, eyes always drawn to Sousuke in that way that wrenches Haru's gut, to the confident man in the later pictures, holding his fingers in a casual peace sign, nestled shoulder to shoulder between Kisumi and Sousuke- Kisumi the hook, pulling him in, and Sousuke the anchor, keeping him from drifting away.

Haru's lost in his little introspective bubble when Rin bursts it with a nudge of his elbow, laughing at the new picture on the screen. Kisumi asleep on some dingy couch somewhere, an overturned bowl of potato chips and an empty beer bottle next to him, Sousuke looming over him with a smirk and a thick-tipped black marker.

"Oh man," Rin whispers dreamily, leaning his chin on his hand. "They're like...brothers."

Haru sniffs. "Except for all the sex."

"You know what I mean," Rin presses on. "Like you and me and Nagisa and Rei. It's sweet."

"It's creepy."

"Oh? Someone sounds jealous."

"I'm not," Haru snaps. _At least, not for the reasons you think..._

  
  
  
  


 

Rin, Haru, and Hayato are the only ones with backstage privileges. The PR rep somehow managed to reschedule all the post-show interviews for the next day, considering...well, Kisumi. All of Rin's worry comes careening back the moment he gets a good look at his face, deathly white under the glow of the backstage lights. Makoto's hovering at his side, motherly, and Hayato's face creases with concern.

"Take him home," Sousuke insists to Rin, despite Kisumi's weak protests that he's 'perfectly fine.'

"Are you sure? I'm sure Hayato can manage... Sousuke, I-"

"It's fine, go. Get him away from all the damn press coverage. He looks like death incarnate." Sousuke hooks his arm around Rin's waist pulling him in for a brief yet potent kiss. "And you look like you wouldn't be able to have fun tonight not knowing how he is."

Rin sighs, sliding his hand over Sousuke's chest with only the slightest tinge of regret. "Yeah. I wanna make sure he's okay. I'll text?"

"Sounds good," Sousuke replies, pulling away with a bitter smile. "Guess now's my chance to spend some quality time with Nanase." Haru's currently standing awkwardly in the corner by Sousuke's guitar, watching Makoto like a cat stalking a colourful piece of yarn. At the sound of his name leaving Sousuke's lips, he looks up, eyes glinting. The glint of light on an unsheathed sword.

"Don't have too much fun," Rin snorts, feeling only a little guilty. After all, whatever argument they may get into, Sousuke's evening will still amount to more than Kisumi's has. He turns away, wanting to look back but confident that Sousuke wouldn't like that. "Yo, Shiginos. Time to go. Pretty sure it's past Hayato's bed-time."

"Hey, I can stay out as late as-" Hayato starts, but his insolent expression changes when Rin winks at him and shrugs in Kisumi's direction. "Oh. Right."

"My eyes still work, Rin," Kisumi says. "I saw that." Even looking like he's moments away from his deathbed, he's still so pretty, with those crazy long lashes and those sharp, gemstone eyes, always full of laughter...

Rin shakes his head to clear the fog, hyper-aware of both Makoto's and Haru's eyes on him as his twines his fingers between Kisumi's cold, clammy ones, leading him out the door, Hayato only a few steps behind. "See you guys tomorrow."

Rin's pretty sure the sharp gasp comes from Haru.

 

  

  
  


 

“I refuse to believe this is the only clean thing you have for me to wear tonight,” Rin grumbles, narrowing his eyes.

Kisumi crosses one leg over the other and rests back on the pillows, feigning innocence. Which he knows Rin isn’t buying. At all. “What’s the big deal? It’s from high-school, it should fit you just fine.”

Rin holds the t-shirt up over his chest, the faded letters on the front indicating its use for the basketball club. “Yellow is not a good colour on me.”

“This is seriously about the colour?”

“You ever meet a redhead that looks good in yellow?” He sounds irritated, but he pulls the shirt over his head while he talks, hair mussed from the static when it emerges. “I look like fucking Ronald McDonald.”

And Kisumi’s laughing so hard he can barely choke out a response, rolling around on the bedspread, tears springing into his eyes. “Where’s my free smile, Rin?”

“I’m gonna pay you back for this, you dick.” 

That piques Kisumi's interest. His parents were out when they arrived home; Hayato had headed straight for the shower and then to bed. And Rin agreed to stay, to Kisumi's delight, grumbling some excuse about not wanting to pay for cab fare to get to his hotel.

Which leads to the current situation; Rin in only his tight boxers and Kisumi's shirt, back turned to the bed as he browses the collection of basketball trophies, framed photographs, and volumes of manga scattered haphazardly on the shelves over top of the desk.

"Ooh, that sounds sexy."

"Nothing sexy for you," Rin growls, turning with crossed arms and pursed lips. "Just rest. And fluids. Goddamn it, drink your Gatorade!"

Just the thought of that cough-syrup flavoured shit makes Kisumi's stomach flip. He places his hand on his belly in what he hopes is a casual way, closing his eyes. "I will."

Rin doesn't notice, thankfully too busy rooting through Kisumi's messy closet. He's quiet for a while, the lull of hangers clattering together soft enough to have Kisumi half asleep by the time Rin lets out a triumphant cry. " _These_ , oh my god, what are they?" He's holding up a scrap of fluorescent orange fabric.

Kisumi props himself up on an elbow, trying to puzzle it out. "Oh! My ex left those here. Don't worry, they're clean."

Rin holds them up, focus drifting from the pair of flimsy panties to Kisumi and back. "Huh."

"...You want me to try them on?"

And Rin's so cute when his face blooms rose red like that, it's impossible to say no. Not that Kisumi has any problem with the idea in the first place.

"Toss 'em here," he demands, shimmying out of his pajama bottoms without sitting up. He exchanges his loose boxers for the thong, grinning at Rin's fascinated expression. "How do they look?"

"Your dick's falling out," Rin points out from where he's seated cross-legged on the floor next to the spare futon.

"Whatever," Kisumi snorts, trying to adjust himself. "It's not like I'm visiting the Queen of England."

"Might wanna go for something more formal if you ever do."

Kisumi wants to keep up the easy banter, wants to seduce Rin. He wants to have the energy to say "are you saying she wouldn't love this?" But he doesn't, he can't, he's too exhausted to even put his normal underwear back on.

After a few moments of silence he feels Rin's weight on the bed, then the gentle warmth of a hand on his forehead. "You feeling better yet?"

There's genuine concern in Rin's voice, and it has Kisumi's heart fluttering like crazy. "Pretty sure I'm done being sick," he murmurs. "Just tired now."

"I almost had a heart attack when you guys didn't come out on stage the first time."

Kisumi groans, covering his face. "I almost screwed up the entire thing. I would've felt awful if you didn't get to see Makoto play."

"I was worried about _you_ , idiot, not the show." Rin says affectionately, thumb brushing Kisumi's cheek. "That you had appendicitis and I didn't notice or something terrible like that."

Kisumi can feel himself start to blush, entranced by Rin's pretty face in such close proximity. "Nope. Only stress."

"About the show, or about...other things?" Rin's narrowed eyes are so intense, seeing right through all the protective layers Kisumi's too tired to shroud himself in right now. He can only meet them for a moment before his eyes drop to the bedspread- it's space themed, dark blue and scattered with accurate depictions of the constellations labeled with their scientific names. Rin's among the stars right now, shining so bright, looking close enough to touch, but it's all an illusion...if Kisumi really reaches out to touch, tries to close his fingers around it, there'll be nothing there.

"The show." Kisumi turns his head, snuggling the pillow close to his cheek. "Mostly."

Rin's quiet for a while, the sound of his breathing soothing enough that Kisumi's almost drifted off to sleep by the time he answers. "You were amazing," Rin breathes. "All of you. And those pictures; those were the best thing. All the ones of you and Sousuke. I loved them."

Kisumi chuckles at Rin's innocent, unguarded expression. "I have more."

"Seriously?!"

  
  
  
  


 

Rin takes his time browsing the image files on Kisumi's laptop. The fan is broken, whirring at full speed despite the fact that it's only been on for about half an hour, room cool because the window's open. Rin sits cross-legged at the head of Kisumi's bed, Kisumi wedged between him and the wall, eyes closed, breathing slow. Rin can tell he's still awake, though he's uncharacteristically quiet.

There are hundreds of pictures here, transferred off Kisumi's phone. Most of them are clearly from the same events depicted in the slideshow earlier, but blurry or shadowed versions that didn't make the cut. Kisumi's obviously a voracious amateur photographer, his favourite subject his friends and family. Each picture of a friend waving from the sidewalk, a flower or shop front that caught his interest, every selfie in front of the mirror, offers a brief glimpse into the inner workings of Kisumi's mind.

But shuffling through the gallery, smiling at each photo of Kisumi antagonizing Sousuke (with pinches or rabbit ears or an unwanted arm tossed casually over his shoulder,) Rin starts to notice a pattern. Kisumi still smiles in the selfies he takes in his bedroom, but there's something so fragile and fake about it. Rin rubs his temples, flicking past a snapshot Kisumi obviously used to check his appearance (angelic, in Rin's opinion) and on to an album dated almost twelve years ago. Hayato's the main feature, and there are groups of different people in each photo. No familiar faces. No Makoto- _of course, he was in Iwatobi still, with us-_ and no...Sousuke.

Rin pats Kisumi's back. "Hey."

"Mm...yeah?"

"When did you meet Sousuke?"

The blankets rustle as Kisumi shifts, chin coming to rest on Rin's knee. Hair falls in his eyes, glowing soft in the electric whitewash from the laptop screen. "Uh, I've known him since elementary, basically, but we didn't become friends until uni."

"Wow. Would've assumed you were best friends from the cradle, the way you are. I was kinda hoping there'd be a bunch of pictures of you as kids on here." Rin turns to Kisumi with a laugh, smirk fading quickly from his lips at the shattered expression Kisumi wears.

"It...wasn't like that," he sighs. Rin finds himself instinctively running his fingers through Kisumi's hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "I wasn't a nice person back then."

"...What does that mean?"

"Like...I dunno. I always wanted to be a...to be the center of attention, I guess? I wanted everyone to like me. I was class president most years; everyone liked me. And Sousuke was...well. He didn't care about any of that stuff."

"Makes sense," Rin muses. "He doesn't really seem like the type who gives a shit."

Kisumi's pushed himself up faster than Rin can blink. "Sousuke does give a shit. More than anyone, I promise you. He just hides it all inside where nobody can see it and hurt him."

"Yeah, I-"

"I meant he doesn't care what people think about him."

"I got that," Rin says, slightly irritated at the interruption. "But since you've perked up, here." He presses the almost-full bottle of Gatarade into Kisumi's hand. "Drink."

Kisumi leans back against the wall, legs folded up awkwardly, pressing into Rin's thigh. He doesn't seem uncomfortable, opening the bottle and downing two thirds of it at once. "Cool," he gasps, catching his breath after drinking so much so fast. It's left a faint blue stain over his top lip, and Rin imagines licking it off, biting down into a rough kiss, pressing Kisumi down into the mattress and cupping him through those flimsy panties he's still got on...

"....pretty textbook behavior for an older sibling," Kisumi's continuing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not that that makes it okay. Anyway. I completely ignored him through elementary because everyone said he was weird. Then high school came."

"High school sucks for everyone."

"Not for the popular kids like moi," Kisumi sing-songs, but it's bitter, off-key like an old piano that's been in the basement, neglected for decades. "I had a great time, but that's when Sousuke came out of the closet. He should've waited...what the heck was he thinking, making high school so hard for himself? And of course I couldn't possibly be friends with him then, because then rumours would start, right?"

Rin's stunned by Kisumi's words. "Because he was gay? That's the whole reason?"

"I was a homophobic, attention-seeking asshole," Kisumi says quietly. "I was so afraid of not fitting in with everyone else. So afraid of things that were different. You probably don't understand that feeling at all, do you? Makoto's told so many stories about how driven you are, how you just find something you want and throw yourself into it no matter what anyone says." He's picking the label off the Gatorade, little shreds fluttering down to be lost in the tangle of sheets. "I can't do a single thing without worrying what everybody thinks of me." 

Rin shrugs. "I care what the people I love think about me. Strangers...they don't matter so much."

"I know. I know they don't matter. Shouldn't matter, at least. I...when I really started hanging out with Sousuke we were already in university, and by then I wasn't worried because it was cool to have gay friends, right? So nobody would judge me and oh my god I can't believe I'm telling you all these things. You must think so little of me."

Rin scoots closer to him, squeezing his shoulder. "We all have things we're not proud of. Trust me, I know more about that than you think. The important thing is to recognize it, change it, and move on."

"I tell him I'm sorry sometimes...and he just..."

"Friends forgive each other," Rin whispers. "You seem great, now. All that bad shit's in the past. Come on, look at Makoto and Haru. It's like nothing changed."

Finally Kisumi looks up, eyes glittering. "You think so?"

"...No. Not really. Makoto's so different, and Haru's changed a lot, too. A lot of stuff has changed and that's why they're gonna work out this time. I can feel it."

"You can feel it?" Kisumi snorts. "You're so cute. Are you some kind of love expert or something?"

"Well...got myself two really hot guys recently, so...you tell me."

But instead of the smile he expects, Rin only gets a sad shrug. His spine goes cold, bathed in ice.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

Kisumi scrubs his face, hands shaking. "I like you so much, Rin, but I feel like I came in and stole you away from Sousuke. I'm an asshole and I wasn't the center of his attention anymore and...I...I fucked it all up."

Rin feels like he's breathing through a straw, but he pulls in a ragged breath and tries to calm down. "You didn't fuck anything up. Well, you fucked me up, but I liked it."

That conjures a tiny grin.

"Seriously, Kisumi...I was watching Sousuke's face the whole time you were... _in_ him, and he was into it. You should trust me, I've fucked him like, three whole times, after all. I'm practically a Sousuke expert."

"Yeah...he seemed...that whole thing was...god, I wasn't expecting it to feel so _right_."

"Now you can be your own cool gay friend! Well, bi, really."

Finally the smile is back on Kisumi's face and he's giggling, some colour coming back to his cheeks. "I can't believe it took me so long to figure out how not straight I am. You know," he says, voice softening. "I kissed Makoto once. A long time ago."

He looks such the innocent tease, all ruffled and sweet, sharing his big secrets, letting Rin in, all the while wearing those tight panties that Rin can see the outline of his dick through...he's got impossibly long legs, and... "Makoto doesn't count," Rin growls, pulling Kisumi in for a kiss. It's deep, long, sensual, all slow tongue and gentle nips, Kisumi moaning his approval into Rin's mouth, fingertips digging into the borrowed t-shirt on his back. By the time they pull apart, Rin's chest is heaving, blood thrumming through his ears. "You look so tired, babe," he says, the endearment slipping out before he can think twice about it.

"I am," Kisumi yawns, settling back down on his pillow. But his cheeks are all red, so Rin's still pretty proud of his handiwork. "I wanna help you with this," he says, running his hand up Rin's thigh, "but I can't keep my eyes open."

"It's okay. I'd rather you slept." Rin closes the lid of Kisumi's laptop, setting it on the floor beside the bed, right on top of the futon he never planned on using anyway. Besides, Kisumi's clinging to him tightly and he doubts he'd be able to pry off his fingers and slip away even if he wanted to. He slides under the covers, wrapping his arms around Kisumi and inhaling his scent, just breathing calmly with him until his pattern slows down, indicating he's finally fallen asleep.

Only then, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Kisumi's head, does Rin shift, disentangling himself and searching for his phone on the nightstand.

  
  


Ocean Eyes (21:11): you guys make it? everything ok?

Ocean Eyes (22:49): text me when you can

Sent! (00:35): Hey, he's fine. Out like a light. What are you up to?

Ocean Eyes (00:36): still with Makoto and Nanase

Sent! (00:36): How's that going?

Ocean Eyes (00:37): not too bad. Nanase's trying real hard not to stab me with his fork. It's pretty funny

Sent! (00:37): BE NICE

Ocean Eyes (00:38): yeah yeah. i didn't do anything

Ocean Eyes (00:39): what took so long anyway? you guys bang?

 

 

 _Almost_ , Rin thinks, going over that kiss in his head. He's half-tempted to start something with Sousuke over text, maybe go to the bathroom, send a couple dick pics, jack off. But Kisumi's here beside him, finally at rest, and Rin finds he doesn't have the heart to leave the warmth of the bed they're sharing.

 

 

Sent! (00:41): Nope, just talked.

Sent! (00:42): Would you be mad if I did?

Sent! (00:47): Hello

Ocean Eyes (00:50): sorry, talking to Nanase. go ahead. you're dating him aren't you?

Sent! (00:51): You wouldn't be even just a little bit jealous? I wanna make sure.

Ocean Eyes (00:52): some people don't care as much about that stuff as you do

Ocean Eyes (00:52): got a question- can i fuck him? after you're gone?

 

 

Rin lets his phone rest on his chest for a moment, closing his eyes and picturing Sousuke and Kisumi in bed, sweat-soaked bodies pressed together, Sousuke leaving a trail of dark love bites on Kisumi's collarbone while Kisumi shudders and sighs. And fuck, he's so hard it's uncomfortable.

 

 

Sent! (00:59): The only thing I'll hate is not being there to see it.

Ocean Eyes (1:00): there're ways to get around that

Ocean Eyes (1:00): trust me

 

 

Rin shivers.

 

  
Sent! (1:01): I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com)
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> I promise the next chapter will pay far more attention to Kisumi's thong. ^^


	33. Sweet Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one evening only. And it's Makoto, anywhere with Makoto is okay. Really. The middle of the desert, trapped in a broken elevator, the back of a dingy bar with Sousuke...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to get up for work in 4 hours ;_; I apologize in advance for this mess.
> 
> I haven't replied to comments on the past few chapters yet (BUT I WILL, I PROMISE) so if you need to contact me it's better to use my [tumblr (rosaveritas)](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com) or [twitter (@maguro_hime)](https://twitter.com/maguro_hime)
> 
> One day I will stop being a shitty person and reply to y'all, but sadly it is not this day (I do still REALLY appreciate all your comments though, thank you!)

It's past midnight by the time Makoto decides he's ready to leave the after party. Haru's grateful, completely worn down by the constant chatter, the camera flashes, people everywhere, boxing him in. But Makoto's so much more personable than Sousuke, whom, Haru has to admit, is quite talented at maintaining his cool, casual persona while managing to dodge an awful lot of questions. Even observing quietly from his corner, trying to avoid notice, Haru finds he's learned almost nothing new about Sousuke.

"Kisumi's the best at handling fans," Makoto explains, hands stuffed in his pockets to avoid the temptation to hold Haru in a way that might kindle a media fire.

"Obviously," Haru retorts. It's late and he's cranky and he's developing a headache he can't get rid of. He's hyper-aware of Sousuke following them down the street, only a few steps behind, an unshakable shadow. He's got earbuds in, but Haru suspects they're not actually attached to anything. He shakes his head. _Why am I so paranoid about him?_

Instead of taking Haru's sharpness as an attack, Makoto glances subtly both ways down the street before pulling his hand out of his pocket, wrapping his fingers around Haru's cold ones. "Let's go someplace to warm up."

Haru wants to tell him that the only place he wants to be is in Makoto's bed, folded in his arms, basking in his body heat...but he's got such an unassuming smile, bouncing bar names off Sousuke, who's got one earbud pulled out now, and Haru finds the words sticking in his throat. He can't say it, so he clings to Makoto's arm instead.

It's one evening only. And it's Makoto, anywhere with Makoto is okay. Really. The middle of the desert, trapped in a broken elevator, the back of a dingy bar with Sousuke...

 

 

 

 

"So," Makoto says in that dangerously gentle voice, the one that reminds Sousuke of a dagger covered in velvet. "Are you going to talk about Rin and Kisumi, or should I hazard a guess?"

Sousuke sighs into his glass, shrugging. "It's Rin's place to tell you."

"Is Rin going to get hurt?" Haru's voice is subdued but purposeful, his eyes wide and dark and fixed unabashedly on Sousuke.

And this situation fucking _sucks._ Sousuke wonders how the hell he ended up having to deal with all this...well, cleaning up after Kisumi's messes is kind of his specialty, he supposes. His whiskey tastes sour in his mouth, but downing it gives him a moment to think of a response. "I don't know." It's true, he doesn't. "Probably. People get hurt all the time, it's how life works."

Makoto shakes his head, sipping his beer. He looks a hundred times more relaxed now that they're in private, the tension gone from his shoulders. Sousuke thinks he might be able to credit some of it to Haru's presence. Even if the guy's acting like a snarky douche. The fact that he makes Makoto happy might be bewildering, but it's still a fact. "I can't _believe..._ honestly, I take my eyes off you for one day..."

Haru's still staring, mouth in a hard line.

"It's better this way, Makoto. I can't give Rin all the things he deserves. There's some shit I just can't do. You know that."

After a moment, Makoto nods, sighing. "That's true. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. Where the hell did it come from?"

"They were texting a lot this week," Haru supplies. Then he huffs, crossing his arms. "I thought Rin didn't like him. Since he's the guy you kissed." Here he shoots Sousuke a glare nothing short of murderous.

Sousuke hones his irritation into a sharp point, nowhere near as tolerant of Haru's bating as Makoto is. "Well, Rin sucked both our cocks last night, so I guess he got over it."

Sousuke can practically see what's left of Haru's composure completely shatter, and he wants to feel satisfied, but he doesn't.

"Christ, Sou," Makoto chokes. "Didn't need to know that. Ugh..." He rubs his temples. "It explains all the looks they were giving each other."

"Neither of 'em are exactly subtle," Sousuke replies. What a mess. The situation's a mess, the relationship's a mess, his _head's_ a mess. He wonders what the two of them are up to, if Kisumi's really asleep like Rin's text said. And he wants to go, to see Rin for another night before he gets back on that fucking plane and leaves.

"Hey."

Sousuke lowers his gaze to his glass, watching the swirls of amber liquid and trying to distract himself. He hates that tone in Makoto's voice, the patience and understanding in it. The pity. "What." He braces himself, preparing for the onslaught of questions about how he's doing and how he feels and how everything's going, but it doesn't come.

Makoto rises, brushing off his jeans unnecessarily. "I'm getting another drink," he informs them, turning to Haru. "Want anything, babe?"

Sousuke has to clap his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter at the expression on Haru's face. He's flushed bright red, fumbling with his napkin, eye contact a thing of the past. "Water," he manages.

Makoto leans in for a kiss before trotting off, and Sousuke knows he's perfectly aware of the blushing mess he's just made of his boyfriend. _Learned way too much from Kisumi,_ he thinks, watching Haru out of the corner of his eye. And he can't help himself, he looks like fun to tease. "Cute," he mutters, barely loud enough to be audible over the crappy bar music.

Haru stiffens, adopting a deadpan expression that does little to counteract the remaining blush on his cheeks. "He's never...said that before."

Sousuke lifts his drink to his mouth, leaning on the counter with one arm to get a better look at Haru. Haru stares straight back at him; Sousuke finds his stubbornness kind of endearing. "In case you need it spelled out to you, it means he likes you."

Haru's still gazing, eyes boring holes right through Sousuke's head. They're deep and dark and glitter like the dark side of the moon, and Sousuke thinks there might be just a tiny bit of magic in them. "Rin likes _you,_ " he says in a measured voice. "A lot."

Sousuke rolls his eyes, turning to finish his drink.

"I know Rin," Haru insists. "And he doesn't like Kisumi more than you. You're afraid of that, right?"

"What the hell makes you think I wanna discuss this with you?" Because yes, that's exactly what Sousuke's worried about. Kisumi's better than him, a more perfect match for Rin in every way. What hope does an aromantic introvert have trying to keep up with someone of Rin's caliber? Not possible.

Haru sighs, annoyed, as if Sousuke's being ridiculous, which he finds vaguely insulting. "You took good care of Makoto," he explains, and there's such a surprising amount of sincerity in his voice that Sousuke nearly drops his glass. "You're his best friend, I can see that, so I'm telling you. Rin's falling in love with you. That's all."

Something about Haru's unguarded expression, his blunt nature, makes Sousuke sure he's telling the truth. His words tug at the last thread in Sousuke's armor; with one last pull, it all falls apart. "He missed you, you know. Even got that stupid cat because its eyes remind him of yours."

"I didn't want him to be sad all these years. I didn't- didn't mean to hurt him, like that..." Haru turns away, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry."

"What the fuck are you apologizing to me for? Tell Makoto. Spend the rest of your life making it up to him." He glances behind to the bar at the other end of the room, where Makoto seems to have garnered the attention of a predatory waitress. He's got his hands up in front of him, shaking his head with a courteous smile on. "Bet you anything she gives him her number and he's too polite to say no."

Haru quietly assesses the situation, sipping through his straw. "Anything?"

Sousuke cocks an eyebrow, then rests his hands behind his head, mildly amused. "Yeah. Anything."

He sips again, loudly slurping the last of the alcohol at the bottom of his glass. "I want...a truce."

"A truce? The hell are you talking about?"

"I don't like you," Haru begins, then pauses.

Sousuke tries hard not to snort. "So far I'm not loving this sales pitch."

Haru glowers at him. "You're rude, you do drugs, you're taller than me, and you cheated on Rin. I hate you. But we both love Makoto, and that means we're on the same team. So I want a truce." The spots of red on his cheeks are growing again. "We don't have to be friends, but we can be civil."

"Hm." Sousuke crosses his arms over his chest, mouth twitching into a smile. "Sure, Nanase. Truce. But if I win the bet? I need you to do something for me. Something important."

Haru leans in close, eyes sparkling, grander than the cosmos. Sousuke can't remember the last time he enjoyed such focused attention. It's kind of nice.

 

 

 

 

 

Rin's nice and warm in the sunlight, since Kisumi's curtains are thrown wide open, and he can hear a shower going somewhere in the house, so he snuggles deeper into the pile of soft pillows, intent on lazing there until someone (Kisumi) makes him get up. Running into one of Kisumi's family members might be pretty awkward, too.

Rin checks his phone to find a missed call from Makoto and several texts from Haru. _Are you okay? What are you doing with Kisumi?_ Rin sighs, shoving his phone away without replying. He's not quite sure what he's doing with Kisumi. Or with anything, really, and it's not something he has the capacity to figure out this early in the morning.

Soon the shower stops and someone makes their way down the hall, receding further away from the bedroom door, which is slightly ajar. Rin can tell by the elephant steps that it's Kisumi; Hayato carries himself far more elegantly. He keeps one ear on the loud clatter coming from the kitchen, taking the opportunity to study Kisumi's bedroom with more detail.

He's messy; Rin wouldn't have expected any place in Kisumi's possession to be tidy. He's a whirlwind of chaos, after all. There are posters plastered all over the wall, a random assortment of books and movies stacked everywhere; most of the books look hardly used, except for the various volumes of manga. _Those_ have creases in their spines, and most of them have stickers showing they're from the library.

Everything Kisumi owns is bright, colourful, an explosion of different patterns and textures thrown together to create something that's reminiscent of a thrift store, in Rin's opinion. The fluffy orange rug on the floor, the drapes that seem to be patterned with little daisies. Nothing matches. _Unlike Kisumi himself,_ Rin snickers.

Rin pretends to be asleep when Kisumi comes back in, eyes cracked open to watch him, trying to learn a little more about him. He's got a towel with a picture of Mickey Mouse on it wrapped around his waist, holding a piece of toast in his mouth. He glances at the bed and Rin snaps his eyes shut, moderating his breathing so he won't get caught. After a few moments he hears a drawer slide open and Kisumi rummaging through it, humming low in his throat.

When Rin sneaks another look, Kisumi's got his back turned, droplets of water dripping down the groove of his spine from his hair, disappearing beneath the towel. He holds tightly to the knot at his waist with one hand so the towel won't fall, which Rin resents. _Let it fall. If there is a god, please let it fall. Come on._

Straightening his back and half-turning, Kisumi turns his eyes to the floor, then grins as he spots something. The thong from last night, crumpled on the floor where he left it before heading to the bathroom for his shower. And the gods finally decide to smile upon poor Matsuoka Rin and grant his wish tenfold as Kisumi sets his toast on the dresser, pulling the towel off. He uses it to dry his hair, arms working vigorously, and Rin almost whimpers at the way the movement makes his bare ass shake.

Kisumi's got the perfect ass, in Rin's opinion. Long, lean legs provide just the right contrast, making it look so round and pert. He's even got a slight gap between his thighs, his skin creamy pale. Nothing like Sousuke, who's all solid, toned muscle. Kisumi's figure reminds Rin of a long metal pole; strong, but thin and with a certain measure of flexibility.

Kisumi bends over, stepping into the panties and tugging them up his thighs. Rin struggles to avoid having an aneurysm, heart beating double-time, pumping blood straight south. He realizes he should have been careful what he asked for; this isn't a gift from the heavens so much as it is an unholy punishment. Watching Kisumi slowly cover up his body is the definition of torture.

Still humming, with gradually increasing volume, Kisumi reaches for a pair of shorts. Then he clears his throat, almost making Rin jump. "Y'know," Kisumi says, his smile visible in the mirror over the dresser. "I could probably be convinced to leave these off for a while longer."

Rin bolts upright, narrowing his eyes, searching for- a balled up sock in the sheets, perfect. He whips it at Kisumi, who turns just in time to catch it, laughing. "Why didn't you say something earlier?!"

"D'aw, you looked so cute pretending to be asleep." He picks up his toast and hops up to sit on the dresser, legs wide open. Rin's having difficulty keeping his wits about him with the view. "But I'm a champ at that game; Hayato's been doing it for years. I can tell if you're really asleep or not. Trust me."

Rin has to swallow the dry lump in his throat before he can respond. "Is, uh, Hayato here?"

"I think he has rehearsal or something."

Rin stretches out his arms, keeping casual, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Parents home?"

"Nope." He's got a genuine smile on, the one Rin missed so much last night. Damp hair sticks to his forehead, framing those sharp, feline eyes.

Rin slips out of bed, fully aware that he's hard and there's no chance Kisumi'll miss it through his boxers. "Then you're in _trouble,_ " he says, advancing and placing his hands on either side of Kisumi's thighs. They're face to face, not quite touching, but close enough to feel each other's body heat.

Hearing Kisumi's breath catch in his throat, Rin grins, showing teeth. Kisumi's blushing, but he seems to be keeping his wits about him better than Rin is. Presumably due to practice. Kisumi tilts his head to the side, staring up through his lashes, eyes dangerously dark. "Oh? On what charge," he bites his lip, covering Rin's hand with his own and setting it on his thigh, "officer?"

Rin's just a whisper away from snapping, barely holding onto his sanity through the hazy fog in his head. "So you like playing games, do you?" He pulls his hand off and steps back, crossing his arms, adopting a stern frown. "Against the wall," he says, motioning. Then, "Actually. The mirror."

Kisumi flushes even darker, his countenance a hundred shades of pink. But he stands, turning around and splaying his hands against the glass. Rin stays professional at first, starting with his hands on Kisumi's shoulders, initiating a routine frisk. But Kisumi makes it impossible, shivering under Rin's fingers, arching his back to make his ass curve more, throwing in a sensuous sigh here and there.

Rin drops into a crouch, running his hands up the backs of Kisumi's thighs, leaning forward to place a kiss right below his ass. Then he stands, resting his chin on Kisumi's shoulder as he slides his hands around front, exploring the grooves of Kisumi's abs before dipping down to cup his crotch. Kisumi's wearing the most erotic expression, mouth open, eyes hooded. Rin traces the outline of his cock through the flimsy fabric, seeing if he can find the piercing. "Shit, you're soaked."

"I could say it's just shower water," Kisumi sighs, trembling in Rin's arms. "But I'd be lying."

"Did you...?"

"I washed _really well,_ " he says, picking up Rin's hint. "I didn't wanna be gross."

Rin chuckles and kisses Kisumi's neck, burying his nose in wet hair and breathing in the fresh scent of his shampoo. He smells like grapefruit. "I don't think ass is gross," Rin says. "There's some shit that just comes with the territory. Gotta get used to it."

Kisumi places his hands over Rin's, goosebumps visible on his skin. "You'll be gentle with me, right?"

"Nervous?"

"Yeah," Kisumi admits, smiling at Rin over his shoulder. "But also excited."

Rin tilts his chin, kissing him so softly he can feel the fine, invisible hairs on Kisumi's upper lip. His fair hair is already starting to dry, lit up with sunlight reflected by the mirror behind him; he's gorgeous, some kind of celestial being that mortal eyes are unfit to look upon.

His tongue is warm in Rin's mouth, tasting of mint toothpaste, and they alternate between slow, languid tongue and short, sweet, close-lipped kisses. Kisumi runs his hand through the hair at the nape if Rin's neck, sending an electric prickle through his veins. Rin presses into him, grip tight on his shoulders, dragging teeth over his lower lip.

Kisumi moans softly, clinging to Rin's sleeve, ass grinding into Rin's crotch. Rin squeezes Kisumi's cock, twitching the fabric aside to stroke him fully hard. His hips twitch, thrusting gently into Rin's fist. "You're so eager," Rin notes.

"Feels so good," Kisumi gasps. "I could come like this."

Rin shakes his head, removing his hand and leading Kisumi to the bed. "That's way too easy. I'd rather give you something new to work with. You got lube? Condoms?"

 

 

 

 

"Breathe," Rin advises, pausing. He's only got two fingers in, curling them rhythmically and working Kisumi open as slowly as possible. Kisumi already looks completely wrecked, thighs twitching from the effort of spreading them to an angle he's not used to, cock thick and wet against his belly. He hugs a pillow to his side, breathing hard, face a hot, blushing mess. His ass is far more sensitive than Rin imagined it would be. "You good?"

"Y-Yeah, go for it." He flinches as Rin pushes in a third slick finger, clenching down on him.

"It hurts less if you relax, trust me," Rin says, bending down to kiss his knee. "Just let me in."

Kisumi takes a shuddering breath. "It's...it feels...if I do I'm scared I'm gonna fart or something, god, this feels so weird."

"Oh my god," Rin snorts. "If you do it's no big deal, stop worrying so much. You have to relax. You seriously saying you've never had any funny shit happen in bed before?"

"I don't think shit would be funny right now."

Rin rolls his eyes. "Is this your idea of sexy talk?" He scissors his fingers as he speaks, stretching Kisumi while he's distracted by conversation. Well, as distracted as a person can be with someone else's fingers stuffed up their ass.

"I'm s-sorry," Kisumi whines. "I suck at filtering myself when I'm _ahh_ this nervous."

Rin smirks. "There it is." He prods the spot that elicited that gasp, rubbing against it like he does when he's playing with himself at home. "How does it feel?"

Kisumi's developing a thin sheen of sweat on his thighs, trembling hard and finally, _finally_ relaxing the muscles in his ass to give Rin more control. "S'good, really good, weird, Rin, _uuhhh..._ "

Rin slips his fingers out, wiping them on his shirt, that last moan ringing loudly in his head. "Can I?"

"Yeah. Yes, please." Kisumi props himself up to watch as Rin peels down his boxers, putting on a condom. "I'm kinda nervous, too," he confesses, hands on Kisumi's splayed knees. "In case I suck at this."

"I'm sure you won't," Kisumi smiles gently. "If anyone screws it up, it'll be me."

Rin's got butterflies so violent he's almost worried about vomiting. _Keep it together, Matsuoka. Not like you're going into a gunfight without a gun._ He leans over, full-length against Kisumi, to kiss him deeply while he fumbles with one hand to line himself up. It'd be easier if he could see exactly what he's doing, but the kisses seem to distract Kisumi and soothe him.

And with a lot of lube and a little luck, Rin manages to get inside, using shallow thrusts to bury himself in Kisumi's ass. Kisumi groans into his mouth, nails scrabbling at Rin's borrowed pajama shirt. Rin pulls away from the kiss, gazing into Kisumi's eyes. "You okay?"

"I think so," Kisumi replies, wrapping his legs around Rin's waist. "It doesn't really burn now. Does this mean I'm not a virgin anymore?"

"You have a strange definition of virgin," Rin teases, glad for the conversation to keep him from coming too soon.

"An ass virgin."

Rin thinks hard about this. "I think I have to make you come for it to count."

Kisumi drags him down into a long, heated kiss, sweeping his tongue through Rin's mouth. "Make me come," he whispers.

Rin starts slow, watching Kisumi's face to make sure he's getting acclimated. The pressure of Kisumi's ass around him feels so good, it's difficult to keep up a pace that won't hurt him. Slick squelches pervade the air as his thrusts gradually increase in speed and depth. The bed springs creak, and Kisumi...well. Screwing Kisumi is turning out to be a very loud affair, far louder than the night with Sousuke. Kisumi squirms and moans, moving his hips in time with Rin's, squeezing his eyes shut when it feels exceptionally good. Rin pays careful attention, though he's not exactly difficult to read.

"Rin, Rin, _Rin,_ " he whimpers, " _yesss..._ "

Rin pauses, wiping sweat from his brow. This time the kiss is to shut Kisumi up; Rin's not sure if he can last with all the erotic noises escaping his lips. But it's hard to thrust while they're kissing; Rin trails his lips down Kisumi's throat to nip at his collarbone, threading his fingers between Kisumi's and pinning his hands to the bed.

" _Rin,_ " Kisumi gasps, hips stuttering, his cock brushing Rin's belly.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," Rin growls, snapping his hips forward. He surrenders to it, to his selfish need to dominate Kisumi, his search for pleasure, and he thrusts fast and hard, hips slapping against Kisumi's ass.

Kisumi writhes, arms still pinned down, back arching off the bed as he rolls his hips along with Rin's. "Oh my gosh...feels so good," his voice flutters, strained. "Right there, there, ohmy _gosh._ "

Rin rocks into him, fire scorching through his limbs and building an inferno in the pit of his belly. He grunts with the effort of each thrust, thighs getting tired from keeping up the relentless pace. "Fuck, fuuuuck-"

" _Rin,_ god Rin I'm s-so close-"

Rin switches his position, half to take the strain off his muscles and half so he can watch Kisumi come. He sits back on his heels, gripping Kisumi's hips to hold him still while he fucks into him relentlessly. Kisumi runs his hands through his own hair sweaty hair, eyes glassy and unfocused, thigh muscles quivering. In this position his cock juts straight up, leaking precome, so red and thick and twitching visibly.

Then Kisumi cries out raggedly, screwing up his face as his abs and ass both clench, come spurting across his belly and chest. Rin keeps fucking him through it, though he's going at his own pace now, legs numb and head fuzzy as he feels his own orgasm start, surging outward from his core.

They collapse in a panting, breathless tangle afterwards, bodies so hot that Rin feels feverishly uncomfortable, sticky with sweat and Kisumi's come, but too exhaustedly satisfied to consider moving or cleaning himself up.

Kisumi mumbles something incoherently into his shoulder.

"Mm. What?"

"...I...I said I love you, but then I realized how dumb that is."

Rin stares at him, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. He must be crazy, because Kisumi's words don't sound dumb to him at all, howevermuch he agrees that they should. "Do you think it's possible to, like, _know_ that you're gonna fall in love with someone? Like when you first meet them you think, yep, this is gonna be something some day. And you can't wait for it to happen?"

Kisumi blinks, his smile hesitantly happy. "Yeah. I do."

"I think I have that feeling with you."

Kisumi flushes, pure joy written across his features. "I love being in love. It's the best feeling."

And Rin kisses him again, gently stroking his face. "I've never been in love with someone who loved me back," he admits, hoping it doesn't make him sound too pathetic. "It was always so painful."

Kisumi touches his lips with the pads of his fingers, eyes filled with an intense sense of wonder that makes Rin blush, because he knows he's the one who caused it. "Rin? Are you in love with Sousuke?"

Rin buries his face against Kisumi's neck, musing over the question. "I...might be. Hey." He lifts his head to watch Kisumi's expression. "Are...are you?"

It's terrifying, the storm of emotions that roils over Kisumi's face, how his eyes shine. "I guess I have been for a long time. A long, long time. Probably ever since I met him."

Rin feels himself starting to tear up, recognizing the pain and longing in Kisumi's voice.

"I'm such an idiot," he continues. "I probably missed my chance a million years ago. I know he doesn't love me. How could he, after all I've done?" He presses the back of his hand to his eyes and Rin knows that he's crying, and there's absolutely nothing he can do to help.

All he can do his be there with him and hold his hand until the pain subsides.


	34. Sorry To Interrupt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's his name?"
> 
> Haru finds himself fighting back a smile. "...I can't pronounce it. He told me when we first introduced ourselves, but I don't speak fish very well." He can feel Makoto's chest stutter as he tries hard not to laugh.
> 
> "Why is it the 'very well' part that concerns me the most? Are you telling me you can speak _some_ fish?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back!! I wanted to let you all know that I've recently opened up fic commissions! I'd love it if you could check out my [commissions info](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com/post/136896225516/rosas-fic-commissions) and reblog it if you have tumblr. I'd really appreciate the signal boost! Thank you so much :D
> 
> You can find me on [rosaveritas.tumblr.com](http://rosaveritas.tumblr.com) or [twitter (@maguro_hime)](https://twitter.com/maguro_hime)

A sharp knock on the door is what wakes Rin up the second time. He's got his arms wrapped around Kisumi's waist, face pressed into his abs, and he's _drooling._ Hair falls in his face when he tries to push himself up, confused and startled.

The door swings open before he's even blinked his vision back into focus. "-take your brother to the- Oh, _my._ " It slams shut again before he can even register what the person on the other side looks like. A woman. A flash of silver hair.

"Wake up, you lump," Rin hisses, poking Kisumi's chest. "Someone just walked in here!"

"Mm?" His unfairly long eyelashes flutter open, eyes sharp amethyst crystals in the morning light. Rin feels a twist of regret in his gut that he didn't have any time to study his sleeping face. "Wh- shoot! What time is it?"

"After ten." It's hard to keep his thoughts together when Kisumi's getting out of bed, the covers sliding off to reveal his nakedness.

"My parents are definitely home now, so...I'm guessing you just met my mom." He steps into a pair of pants laying on the floor, pulling them up over his hips. "Sorry." He doesn't meet Rin's eyes.

Rin follows suit, searching for his discarded clothes in the midst of Kisumi's disorder. "I'll just climb out the window now..."

"Please don't leave me!" There's enough desperation in it to surprise Rin.

"I was kidding," he says, warily. "I'd probably fall and break my leg."

Then he notices Kisumi's erratic breathing, the way he's hunched in on himself, worrying his bottom lip.

"What's wrong?"

"I've never brought home a _guy_ before."

"...I probably _wouldn't_ break my leg. You know. If you're up for my window idea."

"No, no." He shakes his head, reaching blindly to clutch Rin's hand. "I am totally ready for this. I have no idea why I'm even- I...I'm embarrassed, I guess."

"It's okay. It's...I mean, it's not how I woulda wanted to meet her or anything, because now I feel like I'm sixteen again, but...we're not sixteen. You're an adult."

Kisumi finally looks at him, his smile timid and fragile. "That's not why. She knows I'm... _active._ But I've spent half my life convincing her I'm really extremely super-duper sure I'm not into guys."

"That was before you met me, though." Rin gives a reassuring grin, shaking his hair out after pulling his shirt on over his head. "I think she'll understand."

"You are _stunning,_ " Kisumi agrees, stress lifting from his face in a light-hearted smile. "Come on, we'll say hi quickly and then get out of here." With that he does up his last button, checks his hair briefly in the mirror on the way by, and strides out of the room without looking back. Rin follows after him, making sure to keep his eyes above waist level.

The Shigino residence looks completely different in daylight; Rin can't remember much from stumbling through in the darkness the night before. Even when Hayato had turned on the hall light, it had only served to cast the place into a severe pattern of orange light and deep shadow. Now, with the windows open and light streaming in, the entire house seems warm and inviting and... _unique,_ like Kisumi himself. It's clear from the size of the place and the quality of the furniture that the Shiginos have money, but the house doesn't give off the pristine catalogue-showcase feel that Rin's noted before in other wealthy households. It's in enough quaint disarray to indicate that they probably haven't hired a maid.

There's a piece of pottery on every decorative end table, most filled with genuine half-wilted flower bouquets. Art and wall-hangings adorn every empty space between the windows, several of them crooked. And the oddly-shaped shadows that had made Rin uneasy last night as he passed by in the dark are now revealed to be potted house-plants; they're everywhere, lush and green, set up in every single corner. The whole place reminds Rin slightly of an alternative medicine shop.

Kisumi's mother stands over the stove, fixing a kettle of tea. She has silver-blonde hair cascading down her back almost to her waist, and as she turns around to greet them, Rin's struck by her freckled face and blue eyes. He'd never even considered the idea that Kisumi might only be half Japanese. "Tea, anyone?" A thick accent colours her words. "Has my son offered you breakfast yet?"

Kisumi heads straight for the refrigerator, looking back over his shoulder. "Want anything?"

"I'll have whatever you're having." He swallows his discomfort, summoning up his best manners. He gives a little bow. "It's nice to meet you, Shigino-san. I'm sorry for intruding on you so unexpectedly."

She beams at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy. "It's no trouble at all, Rin-san. We enjoy company around here." Her gaze darts between the two of them, her hands twisting the edge of her apron. "Would I be right in assuming you saw my son's concert last night?"

Unsure whether to offer to help and feeling too awkward to sit down, Rin finds himself incredibly wary of his own useless hands. "Um, yeah, actually. It was great. Kisumi was amazing." She purses her lips, eyes twinkling. Understanding dawning on him, Rin feeds into her reaction. "Really, he's such a good musician, and his stage presence- it was all I could do to keep my eyes off him."

The kettle gives a piercing screech, and Kisumi's mother turns to remove it from the stove, setting out three mismatched tea cups. "Careful not to give him a swelled head. It's already too big as it is."

"Mom," Kisumi says in a warning tone, pausing in the middle of scooping leftover miso soup into bowls.

"Well! You came out of me, and I have very painful memories of your giant head-"

" _Mom!_ " In a flash he's beside her, pressing his hand over her mouth. The he kisses the top of her head. "Please don't embarrass me today."

She claps his hand away. "I'm your mother, it's my job. Perhaps if you didn't want me to tell stories, you shouldn't have brought your date here."

Rin's face burns, and he doesn't know where to look, but Kisumi handles it with practiced finesse. "I know, I'm sorry. But Rin brought me home last night because I was really sick, and it was late so I offered for him to stay. And before you get all weird, I'm serious about him, okay? _Serious_ serious."

She studies him, eyes intensely focused. Rin wonders what she sees, assuming she has the same power his own mother has, of not only seeing _through_ him, but seeing everything he keeps hidden inside, as if he's made of glass. After a moment she pats Kisumi's arm. "I see. And how is Sousuke-kun?"

Yep, just like his own mom, she somehow _knows._ Rin bites down hard on his tongue to keep himself quiet, watching as Kisumi's face flushes scarlet. "He's fine."

"Didn't you say he was dating someone named Rin? I remember, because I remember thinking that that's a very-" She glances warmly at Rin- "wonderful and _unique_ name for a man."

Kisumi's expression professes his guilt as plainly as a signed confession.

His mother puts her hands on her hips, taking on an accusing tone. "What did you do? I thought I raised you better than to-"

"Shigino-san, sorry to interrupt." The second he says it he almost wishes he hadn't, but he can't stand by and watch Kisumi get mommed to death without feeling a little sympathetic. Rin's heard coming-out stories before, and he certainly remembers his own being quite an extraordinary event, but he's having trouble wrapping his head around this one. For starters, Kisumi's mom doesn't seem the least bit concerned about her son's newly-emerging bisexuality. "It's not his fault. It's mine."

"Sousuke's cool with it," Kisumi adds. "Look, mom, we'll talk about it later, okay? But Rin has to get to the airport and we should probably stop at Sou's first so we have to go." He envelops her in a hug and kisses her cheek, then turns to Rin. "I'm just gonna go find my wallet. I'll buy you breakfast on the way." He vanishes in a swirl of blushes and uncertain limb movements.

His mother heaves a sigh. "I'm very worried about that boy," she says.

"Me too," Rin replies without thinking. He could kick himself for being incapable of simply shutting up.

She sets a cup of tea in front of him, though he's fairly sure she's aware it won't be cool enough for him to drink before Kisumi drags him away. He tries to take a sip anyway, only to promptly choke on it when she asks, "So, is something going on with you three?"

After his coughing fit ends, he nods, unsure how to respond. "...Isn't any of this news...shocking?"

"I've heard of such things before. These things are more accepted where I'm from, in the Netherlands. I've always taught my boys that love is never a bad thing, no matter in what shape it comes." She hands him a napkin from a drawer so he can dab up his spilled tea. "I'm shocked only that he's finally going somewhere with Sousuke. They have been such dear friends for years. I worried he would deny his feelings forever."

"Glad I could help with that," Rin says stiffly. _Like some kind of tool..._

She squints at him, mom-vision in full force. "Hmm...I'm thinking that you might be the missing piece between them." She extends her hand, and Rin takes it. Her grip is firm, her hand warm and soft. "I'm looking forward to future visits, Rin-san."

Rin furrows his brow, bewildered by the odd exchange. "I..."

"Got it," Kisumi calls, sliding out on the hardwood in his socked feet, almost bumping into the counter. "Let's go."

Rin bows again on his way out. "Thank you for the tea, Shigino-san."

"I prefer Margriet if you don't mind." She nods decisively and catches Kisumi's arm as he tries to get by her, turning to address him. "Make sure you bring him by again. Sousuke, too. I'll make poffertjes!"

"Rin's leaving Tokyo today and I dunno when I'll see him again." The wistfulness in his eyes and voice has Rin's chest tightening. "He also doesn't like sweets."

"Interesting," she says, looking Rin over carefully. Nothing about her tone gives away what she means by that, and Rin feels no small amount of self-doubt manifesting in his lower belly. _How will my family take this?_ He pushes the thought aside, tugging on his shoes and following Kisumi out of the house, too distracted to notice anything else being said.

Long after leaving the house, he can feel Margriet's sharp gaze between his shoulder blades.

 

 

 

 

 

Haru licks the pad of his forefinger, moistening it for traction as he flips through the smooth pages of one of Makoto's notebooks. Some pages are filled with words, the margins crammed with messy writing- others are empty save for a few scrawling lines of broken imagery.

Makoto's handwriting suits him, the strokes steady and dynamic, yet simple. Haru finds himself wishing everything was written in this font. He'd be inclined to read more if this is what greeted him every time he opened a book.

He wipes the saliva off his finger to avoid smudging anything, tracing his finger tip over some English lettering. His eyes flick up to Makoto for an instant, catching his eyes. Makoto smiles, the pencil in his hand going still. He balances a different notebook on his knee, sitting on the couch with crossed legs. "What?"

"What does the English say?"

Makoto leans over to peer at the page Haru has open, his own book falling off of his lap in the process. "Which song?"

Haru adjusts his position so he's pressed against Makoto's side, tilting the book toward him and pointing at the title. _Know Orange._ "The first one you sang last night."

Makoto settles his arm across Haru's shoulders, weighty and warm. He presses a kiss to the side of Haru's head, then whispers, "It's about you. It's about all the times over the years that I'd find myself thinking about you."

Warm breath tickles Haru's ear while Makoto's words touch somewhere deep in his chest. "What does it say?"

Makoto points to each line as he softly sings the words. "It's still living in my mind, the feel of you....if you change your mind, just call my name."

As his gentle voice recedes into silence, Haru's heart swells like a tidal wave. "Makoto."

"Yeah?"

"Makoto, Makoto, _Makoto!_ Or do I have to say it louder?"

"You know," Makoto says, burrowing his face in the crook of Haru's neck. "I really love the way you say it in bed. It's usually a _lot_ louder."

Haru runs his hand through Makoto's silky hair, and Makoto sighs. "I wish you didn't have to leave today. It feels like you just got here."

"I...well, about that." _How to explain it all?_ "I applied for school." Makoto's stunned silence offers Haru a chance to continue. "Here, in Tokyo."

Makoto keeps staring, eyes wide and searching. "Here? School? You...but I'm _leaving_."

"I know that," Haru tacks on hurriedly. "But this is where the school I want to go to is. It's an animation program, and I don't even know how I got in because it's been so long since I....what?"

"Your face, talking about it." Makoto smiles, head tilting gently to the side. He squeezes Haru's fingers in his own. "It's all lit up. You're excited."

"I'm _nervous._ " He hopes Makoto doesn't notice how sweaty his palm is. Admitting it costs him something; he looks studiously out the window as he says it, incapable of looking Makoto in the face. Makoto, full of genuine excitement and support for Haru's future. He returns Makoto's hard grip, clinging to his hand like it could keep them from ever being parted again.

"You won't have to do it alone. I'll help you." Silk-smooth fingers, ruffling Haru's hair, stroking his cheek. "I know about the area. I'll help you find a place."

"You really don't have to."

"I want to help as much as I can."

Haru huffs. "I can do it myself! I'm an adult." He regrets the outburst as soon as it happens, trying to yank his hand out of Makoto's, but Makoto only snorts, wrapping Haru in a tight hug so he can't escape.

"I'm not doing it because I don't think you can," Makoto chuckles. "I'm doing it because I want to monopolize as much of your time as possible before everything changes again. Let me be a little selfish."

Haru ceases squirming, falling limply back against Makoto's chest. "Okay." Warmth spreads over his cheeks, heating his ears.

Makoto slips into a pensive silence, smoothing his hand over Haru's bare arm in a rhythmic pattern. "...Do you want to stay here?"

"Here?" Haru's aware of his voice cracking before he can get the whole word out, so it comes out a senseless, shattered syllable, but he doesn't care. The walls decorated with Makoto's posters and art, the used furniture where his cologne and the faint smoke of his preferred cigarette brand still linger. The living room curtains, made of halfway transparent material to let more sunlight flood the apartment. Makoto's dishes and towels and CDs. His bed. "What if Maguro-hime doesn't like my fish?"

"Um." Makoto blinks, then furrows his brow, mimicking serious thought. "That would require some serious roommate negotiations. We wouldn't want things to be tense between them. Maybe it's too soon."

Haru nods. Then cranes his head to get a glimpse of Makoto's face. "Maybe," he whispers. "He's scared of change. But I could probably convince him to come out of his bubble a little..."

"What's his name?"

Haru finds himself fighting back a smile. "...I can't pronounce it. He told me when we first introduced ourselves, but I don't speak fish very well." He can feel Makoto's chest stutter as he tries hard not to laugh.

"Why is it the _very well_ part that concerns me the most? Are you telling me you can speak _some_ fish?"

"Yep," Haru tells him. "I vowed never to tell a living soul this, but..." He pauses until Makoto bends his head closer in anticipation. "My real father is Aquaman."

"My _god,_ " Makoto gasps, a hint of breathless laughter undermining his shock. "I can't believe it. I absolutely refuse to believe it."

"And my mom is Superman." Haru reaches for the pair of glasses Makoto's left folded on the coffee table, making an exaggerated show of opening up the arms and sliding them on. He flutters his hands around his face, framing the grand reveal. Everything appears hazy and distorted through the lenses, like being underwater.

"It's like you're a completely different person," Makoto laughs. "In fact, how can I trust you're the same?" He narrows his eyes in suspicion. "What have you done with the _real_ Haru? He was here just a moment ago."

Haru shrugs, smirking. Five percent out of actual amusement at the joke, ninety-five from the sudden realization of exactly how lame his boyfriend is.

"Ah, well. Haru always did have this tendency to try to avoid discussions he didn't want to have." He holds Haru tightly in his arms. "I probably should have suggested that he take care of my apartment while I'm away. The way I phrased it made it sound more like a proposal to live together."

"....The son of Aquaman and Superman isn't afraid of anything." Haru stretches back to kiss Makoto's jawline, caressing his stubbly cheek. "Not quitting his job and going back to school and being way older than anyone else there." Another soft kiss. "Not moving to Tokyo by himself." A third. "Not the thought of a seriously committed long distance relationship."

Makoto catches his face with a strong hand, tilting it to kiss his lips. "We've fucked up so much in the past. We're gonna make it work this time."

"We are. But maybe...maybe to do that, my fish and I should look for our own place to stay."

Makoto gives an understanding sigh. "Okay. But at least let me help you look."

"I deem that acceptable adult behaviour. And now, because I am clearly very mature, I'm gonna call in sick for tomorrow so we can go apartment hunting."

This time Makoto's gasp is real. "Doesn't your flight leave in a couple hours?"

"Yeah. I decided I'm not going. There's nothing left for me back in Iwatobi. My future is here."

"In Tokyo?"

Haru fights the urge to clutch his chest in some vain attempt to stifle the loud beating of his heart. If focuses hard enough, maybe he can hear Makoto's, like they always claim to be able to do in mangas. All he can hear is the ticking of the clock and the hum of the fridge coming from the kitchen, all nearly drowned out by the traffic whirring by in the street outside. How is he supposed to voice what he's thinking? _You're my future._ "For now."

 

 

 

 

 

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Rin growls, eyes glued to the text message on his phone screen. "Guess I'm going home alone. Because _some of us_ feel like work is-" Kisumi loops their arms together, yanking him back into the center of the sidewalk. Rin almost drops his phone, looking up just in time to avoid a head-on collision with a streetlight.

Kisumi titters, patting Rin's arm in a soothing manner. "What's wrong with going solo? Do planes freak you out?"

"No. That's not the issue." He runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his bangs loose. It was a mistake not to bring an extra elastic with him. "I wish I could play hooky like that."

Kisumi cocks his head to the side, staring. Standing in a square of sunlight passing between two buildings, his hair gleams so brightly Rin nearly has to squint to see him. He has it stylishly pinned with clips in the back, but stray waves still frame his freckled face with pink fluff. He's wearing a dark green sweater, and Rin's not sure how he can handle the heat with it on. He'd removed his own jacket about ten seconds after stepping outside.

"...What?"

"It's weird being around someone who's actually serious about their job. You have a real one and all. It must be so cool."

Rin shrugs, glad he doesn't have to wear his uniform in this heat. "It's pretty good, yeah. Most days. And it's important, so I can't just _not go_ whenever I feel like it."

"You're like Sousuke. He never calls in sick. Me on the other hand?" He makes a face. "Eh. My boss doesn't care, though. Telling her I'm sick is a formality at this point. She knows I'm lying."

"Your...boss?" The sour stage manager from the night before pops into Rin's head. "Oh, you mean..." He could kick himself for being so dumb. "You have another job. Right. Well, it's not like you even need to go now that you've hit it big."

"True," Kisumi says, pressing his lips into a guilty line. "She, uh. May or may not be my mom..."

"Oh. Yeah. That seems...your mom seems really...intuitive. I couldn't tell if she liked me or not."

"She did," Kisumi laughs. "She's probably just upset she didn't walk in on me and Sousuke together. He's like her third kid. Sometimes I'd swear she likes him better than she likes _me._ "

Rin smirks. "It all makes sense now. You had to convince her you were super duper sure you weren't into guys because she kept asking if you were with him?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure it'd be her dream come true if we got together." He shakes his head. "But that's...this is probably as close as we'll get."

"You know...I was texting him last night and he asked if it's okay if he sleeps with you while I'm gone."

Kisumi's eyes shine, wide as saucers. "What?!"

Rin's smile widens. "I dunno if it's worth it to try to put a label on things, but...you're best friends. It's clear how much he cares about you. He wanted to _break up_ with me over you. And if you're fucking, too, well...I don't think it gets closer to the real deal than that."

"Oh my god..." The force of Kisumi's hug nearly knocks Rin to the ground. He doesn't care who sees, doesn't care if strangers find the length of time they spend pressed together suspicious.

"I said yes by the way," Rin says, savouring the smell of Kisumi's shampoo.

"Huh?"

"To you guys doing it without me. But...think of me. At least a little."

"How could I not? You're so sexy." He steps closer, pressing his lips to Rin's, arms still wrapped around him. Someone hoots at them as they drive by, but it's easily ignored. "My ass is still kinda tingly from earlier."

"Good." He tucks a stray piece of Kisumi's hair behind his ear, fingers lingering on his smooth skin. It doesn't seem the least bit awkward that Kisumi's taller than him. "Something to remember me by."

"I wish I could've seen you in your actual uniform, _officer._ "

The breathy whisper travels straight down Rin's spine. "Do you think we have time to do stuff at Sousuke's? What time is it?"

"Ugh, no...I texted him earlier and he said he got called into work today. He said we can stop and get your stuff. And I'm still gonna take you for breakfast."

"Sounds good. I'm starving."

"Great, I know exactly the place," Kisumi says confidently, tugging Rin across the street. "You're gonna love it." Something about the way he says it has Rin equal parts worried and curious.

 

 

 

 

 

Rin's sure he recognizes some of the buildings as Kisumi reassures him that they're almost there. "Is this close to Sousuke's?"

"Yeah, he's a couple blocks from here," he replies distractedly, ushering Rin into a small cafe. A bell tinkles when the door opens, and the smell of coffee and baked goods gets Rin's stomach growling almost immediately.

A second later, something else has his mouth filling with saliva- the sight of Sousuke behind the counter in a black polo t-shirt that shows off his arms and a crisp, blue-striped apron. He's busy with a small line of people and doesn't look up when they come in.

"He works _here?_ " Rin gasps. "Like...being _nice_ to people?"

"He doesn't have to be nice, look at him," Kisumi whispers.

He's right. Sousuke frowns at a customer as he writes down her order on a small pad before sticking the pen behind his ear. She doesn't seem to mind his haughty demeanor whatsoever, and neither do any of the other women arranged at the various tables, oogling and giggling amongst each other.

"I can't believe this. Rock star by night, barista by day. I can't-" He can't hold back his laughter, the sound of it finally earning a glance from Sousuke. A glance that quickly transforms into an icy glare before he turns his attention back to the middle-aged woman in front of him. "I can't even decide which one is sexier."

"Well, you better decide on _something_ , because it's your turn," Kisumi says, giving him a little push.

It's only once he gets right up to the register that he notices the dark shadows under Sousuke's eyes and how haggard his face looks. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You look exhausted. You okay?"

"Fine," Sousuke replies quietly. "Didn't get much sleep. They called me in early."

"Oh, that-"

"I'll have the special," Kisumi interrupts. "With whipped cream. And sprinkles."

"I reserve the right not to serve you," Sousuke states, crossing his arms. Rin's enthralled by the way his biceps ripple. Praise the lord for short sleeves.

Kisumi ignores him. "And Rin's having breakfast, I'm paying, so what do you have that's good?"

"Everything we have is good," Sousuke says robotically.

Rin catches his eye, trying not to burst into another fit of laughter. "I see you're very passionate about pastries."

"Very," Sousuke nods, pokerfaced. "If you're seriously hungry you should go to that place across the street. They serve real breakfasts."

"Nah, I'm good. I'm a cop. I live off donuts."

Sousuke arches an eyebrow.

"Fine, I hate donuts. Just gimme a black coffee and a muffin or something, I don't care what kind."

"Don't forget my whipped cream," Kisumi reminds him. "I'm suffering withdrawals already."

That puts him on the receiving end of one of the poisonous glares Rin's seen to date. Heat floods his lower belly and he can't tear his eyes away. "I wish you didn't have to work," he says in a low voice, wary of Sousuke's coworkers trying to listen in on their conversation. "We didn't really get a chance to say goodbye."

Sousuke's silent for a moment, then looks over to the barista nearest him. "I'm going on my break."

"But you're not scheduled until- um. Okay," she blinks in confusion, accepting the notepad he thrusts into her hand.

He points to an empty table at the back of the cafe. "I'll meet you over there," he says, then disappears through a back door.

They have just enough time to get their coffees (or diabetes in a cup, in Kisumi's case) and get settled at the table before Sousuke joins them. He's taken the apron off, which shows how form-fitting the shirt really is, clinging tightly to his pecs. "He seems better," he says to Rin, pointing a thumb at Kisumi. "Back to his old irritating self."

"Yeah, thanks to my special brand of tender love and care," Rin replies around a mouthful of bran muffin.

"Mom kept asking about you," Kisumi says, blushing slightly. Rin hopes it's more from the memory of Rin's "care" than it is from Sousuke's snide remark. "You should visit her."

"...Did you tell her about us?"

Kisumi scratches his neck, spooning up whipped cream on the end of his straw. "She kinda walked in on us, so...she knows, yeah."

"Cool." He seems genuinely relieved, though it's difficult for Rin to read his expression. "Makoto and Nanase know too- which by the way, thanks for leaving me to deal with that by myself," he grumbles. "Nanase was pissed. Just so you're prepared, Rin. Might be an awkward flight home."

"Oh?" Rin feels a stab of indignation, but he can't quite put a finger on the source. "Well, he ditched me last minute so I don't have to worry about that."

"Ditched you?"

"I guess he likes Makoto more than me or something," Rin says airily. "Apparently some people can afford to ditch work and cancel plane tickets to spend time with their boyfriends."

"Someone's jealous," Sousuke chuckles, resting his chin on his hand. Rin wants to touch his tired face and take "care" of him, too, but he moves his attention onto the rest of his muffin instead.

Kisumi makes an obnoxious slurping sound with his straw, leaving Rin wondering how he's finished his drink so fast. "I'm the one who bought the tickets, anyway, so it's not like he's losing money there."

Sousuke shakes his head, a spark in his eye. "Aren't you mad, Kisumi? Waste of money."

Rin kicks his shin under the table, but Sousuke only smiles- it's half-hidden under the hand he's resting on, but Rin can still tell it's there.

"It's not a big deal," Kisumi shrugs.

"Waste of a good ticket, though." Sousuke sighs. "But I guess Rin might like the extra space."

Rin coughs. "I...guess so?"

Sousuke scrubs his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kisumi, take the ticket and get on the plane back with Rin. And both of you, learn how to take a hint. Christ."

Rin looks from Sousuke to Kisumi, sure that his own expression of surprised realization must mirror Kisumi's.

"Oh my-"

" _Yes,"_ Rin cries, ecstatic. He automatically clutches both Sousuke and Kisumi's arms, one on either side of the small round table. "Come with me!"

Sousuke's face softens into a small grin. "Aren't you staying at Nanase's?"

"Screw him, he owes me!"

"I can pay for a hotel," Kisumi muses, practically sparkling. "Sousuke, are you...okay with this?"

"Would I have suggested it if I wasn't?"

"Yes," Kisumi says, not missing a beat. He gives Sousuke a gentle punch on the arm. "Because that's the kind of stuff you do. Shoot, what about all that paperwork and stuff we have to do?"

"Rin's sister is the rep for that area, remember? You can probably do all that stuff through her."

"I can call her and check before we decide anything else," Rin offers, sincerely hoping all this stuff is possible. To have at least _one_ of his boyfriends with him a while longer...

He suddenly realizes the absurdity and the sublime _rightness_ of the thought that he has two boyfriends, chest heating up as he looks at both of them.

"I already decided," Kisumi says, shaking his head to stop Rin taking out his phone. "I'm going with you."

Sousuke gives a regal nod of approval.

_"Yamazaki, your break is over!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (On another note, I'd like to say that I'm going through kind of a difficult time emotionally and I'm finding replying to comments a touch overwhelming- I'm very sorry I haven't answered any in the past few chapters, but I want to assure you that I DO read them and I still appreciate getting feedback from you guys! Someday when I'm in a stronger place mentally I promise I'll reply. Your support means a lot to me.)


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